


Tell Our Ghost Stories

by paperxwalls



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: 1984, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Blood and Gore, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Canon Dialogue, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Developing Relationship, Dialogue Heavy, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fourth Wall, Gen, Ghosts, Gore, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Oral Sex, Other, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperxwalls/pseuds/paperxwalls
Summary: Bree Connors is an admitted patient at Red Meadows Asylum, located not far from the abandoned murder site of Camp Redwood. A young woman in her early 30’s with a number of issues, she’s trying hard to focus on herself and not her own problems during her indefinite stay in a psychiatric facility. She’s only been there a week, until one night, she walks in on a young man ranting and raving, who tells the hospital’s director, Ms. Donna Chambers, that he’s the son of Benjamin Richter aka Mr. Jingles, a serial killer who once escaped from that very asylum.Bree takes her boredom and decides to evesdrop on a private conversation, learning some interesting things about the camp where multiple massacres occurred. She starts thinking that maybe, just maybe, her life could get more interesting if she relocated to this camp instead...
Relationships: Xavier Plympton/Original Character(s), Xavier Plympton/Original Female Character
Comments: 27
Kudos: 23





	1. Everything Is Going Great

**Author's Note:**

> This bizarre idea came to me after having a dream involving living on the Camp Redwood grounds. 
> 
> I’ve purposely left out any romantic pairings yet, mostly because I haven’t decided on who I want the character of Bree to even be with. Once the story goes on, I’ll add more and add more tags. 
> 
> There will be eventual smut, and those tags will be added as it goes on. 
> 
> *Michael Langdon, Ms. Mead and Apocalypse is tagged in this for a reason. This story is going to have some kind of eventual connection to that season, although it’s mostly based on 1984. Hey, gotta do right by Ryan Murphy.
> 
> *** WARNING: implied suicide attempt and graphic discussions of self harm in this chapter ***

_ Now we've all sold our souls _

_ We're just waiting for the show _

_ To begin here at the edge. _

Spending time in an institution isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  


For lack of a better word, “cracked up” is the only one I can think of right now. My family had to do some excessive paperwork in order for me to even be admitted into Red Meadows Asylum - most psych wards at conventional hospitals will only keep you for a week or two. That’s the policy these days. You have to have committed a crime, or be diagnosed as dangerous to the outside world, I guess, to stay in a place like this for the long term. 

I don’t know when the policy changed, or what year. They do let me hold on to my phone - a reward for good behavior. I hand it to the front desk when I want it charged, and during the night sometimes. They don’t give you access to the charging cords (possible choking hazard? Hanging? Electrocution? There’s dozens of uses for it, I guess). 

Doing some research one night, I found that the longest person to ever have stayed here was a serial killer, Benjamin Richter, more famously known as “Mr. Jingles.” The news articles I found online say he was here for 14 years, from being taken in after his murders at Camp Redwood about five miles away from here, in 1970, until he murdered an orderly checking on him and pulled the alarm, unlocking the doors, and escaping the asylum when nobody was looking. That was in June of 1984, and he hasn’t been back.

Apparently, the story goes, that he joined forces with another infamous serial killer, The Night Stalker, also known as Richard Ramirez, before disappearing completely after Ramirez’s arrest in Los Angeles in 1985.

Nobody had heard from or seen him since. 

Ramirez was also supposedly dead. 

  
There’s more to the story, or so everyone suspects.

I stopped reading about halfway through the article when I got called for one of my therapy groups by Ms. Donna Chambers, the asylum’s medical director, and never went back to it. That was on my second night here, about a week ago. 

Ms. Chambers. I’ve met with her a few times, as she came and spoke with the new admits once or twice. She’ll say hello to me in the hallway sometimes during meals. I like her. A tall black woman, very pretty, roughly in her 50’s, although she looks like she could pass for way younger. I’m only in my early 30’s and wish my own damn skin could look as good as hers when I’m her age. She does have a couple of scars on her face, that I’ve obviously never mentioned. I do wonder how they got there. Not my business - I’ll never ask. 

  
  


I lay on my bed and fumble through the bag I packed, trying to decide if I want to read a graphic novel or one of the real books I’ve brought. I brought several of each. I pause and look over at the empty bed on the other side of the room. My previous roommate, Kelly, was discharged this morning, and I guess they haven’t filled the bed yet. I asked one of the nurses this afternoon if they knew if or when the bed would be filled, she doesn’t know. I suppose I could enjoy the room to myself, at least for the night, or whenever they fill it. I don’t know how much longer I’m supposed to stay here. They do have a limit, but they wanted to assess me some more, I guess. Looking down at my bare wrists poking through the sleeves of my black hoodie, my eyes start to well a little at the faded scar peeking out on the skin just below my left palm. I sigh at the bandage covering my opposite wrist; the dried blood seeping through the flimsy, white fabric. Looks like I gotta tell the nurse the bandage needs to be changed.

_  
**(I know, you’re probably thinking what happened, or why. You probably assume that’s why I’m here. You guessed right. Wouldn’t be my first attempt, but the most recent. Maybe I’ll tell you later, we don’t know each other that well yet. Nothing personal.)** _

Not wanting to leave my room, but it looks like I’ll have to. I zip up my bag, hop off the bed and cover myself as I leave my room. Walking down the dark hall, with the walls of gray and white paint. It’s so drab in these hallways, such a stark contrast to the brightly lit rooms where we have our group therapy sessions. I forgot to bring my phone with me, so I look up at the clock on the wall. 9pm. I’m slowly approaching the nurse’s station, and the one behind the desk looks up at me. 

Holding out my wrist for her, I pull up my sleeve and show her the bandage. 

“Needs to be changed,” I say to her calmly, trying to hold back the tears that are still forming in my eyes. 

She looks up at me. The look on her face is one of pity. So fucking obvious. 

“Come on back,” she says, and opens the small door, allowing me to come and sit in a chair next to where they keep the blood pressure machines that they keep hooked up and make us patients use every morning when we take our medications. 

The nurse walks through the door next to me and brings out a first aid kit. Rolling up my sleeve, I allow her to cut off the old, bloody bandage and watch as she tosses it in the trash can behind her. I turn my head to look at the wall, the blood pressure machine, the phone - something to keep my eyes away from what I did to my arm the other week. It’s taking a while to heal. The ER helped a lot, but after calling my parents and my brother, we collectively decided I needed some time away. And after a couple of hours of research and phone calls when the hospital told me the short limit on their own psychiatric ward, Red Meadows was decided on. I spent the night in the ER and was driven up here, admitted the following night. Lucky for me, they had room at the time. 

My reflection on the past week comes to a halt. Flinching as she wipes my wound with an antiseptic pad and re-bandages it. I glance across the nurse’s station through the glass window, looking at the bulletin boards of the week’s activities. 

The nurse snaps me out of my trance. 

“All done,” she says. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss Connors?”

I shrug.

“Not right now, but thanks anyway,” I say quietly to her, standing up and tugging the end of my hoodie down so that it covers my shirt underneath. I was too tired to wear a bra today, and felt self conscious. “Oh, and you can just call me Bree. ‘Miss’ anything makes me feel weird.”

She looks and me and smiles. “Sure thing, Bree.”

I manage half a smile as I walk back into the hallway. Weird thing is, I’ve used this nurse a few times, and don’t think I’ve caught her name either. They don’t have name tags here. Maybe next time, I’ll ask.

Staring at the activities announcements up close, I glance over to my left and hear a man’s voice speaking:

“I need to see the medical director.”

Considering I need to walk in that direction to get back to my room, my curiosity gets the best of me. I start walking back, and see a tall man with dark brown, almost black hair, a black jacket and hoodie. His clothes look otherwise disheveled, and I can see the excess amount of dirt on both his hands. I glance at the side of his face, his jawline in my view, but I notice his cheek is also covered in dirt. 

He’s looking at the front desk at Jess, the receptionist in the hospital. His hands are placed on the desk. She’s on her phone, the music coming from it hinting that she’s probably playing a game. I walk slowly past them, trying to not make it too obvious that I’m evesdropping. 

Jess puts her phone down. “Yo, you’re in the wrong kind of hospital,” she says to the man, in the soft tone I’m used to hearing from her. “This ain’t no ER,” I hear her continue.

I use this opportunity to duck into the women’s bathroom across the hall, turning the light on and leaving the door open a crack.

“I’m fine. Please,” the man insists, hovering over Jess at the desk. “It’s very important.”

“She’s kind of indisposed right now,” Jess says to him. I can’t see her face from my spot inside the bathroom, but the sound of her voice indicates her obvious annoyance. “Maybe I could take a message?”

“ _No_!” The man suddenly shouts, slamming both hands on the desk. He pauses to catch his breath, then speaks again. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice lowering. “I’ve - I’ve had a very long day, and I just need a few minutes of her time. Please.”

I could hear the desperation in his voice.  _Wonder what he wants to see Ms. Chambers so badly for?_

“Okay, no problem,” I hear Jess reply. “Have a seat over there. I’ll see what I can do.” She sounds a little nervous.

The man nods. “Thank you,” he says to her.

I see her pointing her hand out, and watch as the man turns around and limps over, slumping down into one of the chairs in the visitors’ waiting room across from Jess’s window at the front desk. I can scope the same magazine rack next to him that I looked through myself on the day I was admitted, before Jess handed my mother my patient admit forms to fill out. Seeing his full face, he looks exhausted. My stupid self still thinks,  _Fuck, this dude is pretty damn good looking. He would look clean cut, if he wasn’t so dirty. That’s superficial of me, but I also can’t help but wonder what he wants. Exhausted is actually an understatement for how he looks though, and I notice now that his pants are also covered in dirt and what looks like dried blood. I look at his dirt covered hands, and can clearly see blood on one of them. He also has a bleeding cut on his the left side of his forehead, just underneath his hairline. I’m only just noticing now how much blood he actually has on him..._

“Hi, it’s Jess,” I hear her voice again. “I got a guy here in the lobby. Someone that needs your attention. Thank you.”

I lurked back, keeping the door to the bathroom ajar, and watch the man sitting in the chair as he waits. I already know Jess called someone, so it’s no surprise that in a matter of minutes, two of the hospital orderlies that I hadn’t met yet come down the opposite hallway and appear in the waiting room.

“Take it easy now,” one of them says to the man as they slowly approach him. “We’re just gonna get you cleaned up.”

“ What?” He says, and begins to protest as they grab both of his arms and force him to stand. “No, no, no, no, no, I’m not, I’m not here for that! I’m just here to get some information.” He tries to sit back down again, but they continue to make him stand, grab him by the arms and begin to drag him down the hall.

“You’re in good company!” One of them says to him. I can see from my perch in the bathroom that he’s started to try and wriggle his way out from their hold on him. “Lots of people in here looking for information! Frequencies, chupacabras...”

“Fun group,” the other orderly says. 

“Listen!” The man shouts, still trying to force his way out of their hold. “It’s about Benjamin Richter...”

_What the fuck?!_

“Wait,” I suddenly hear Ms. Chambers’ voice and out of the corner of my eye through the door, and see her enter the hallway by the waiting room. She’s wearing a purple patterned dress and a gold pearl necklace today, and she’sholding her phone, a leather file folder, and a pen in her hand. I hadn’t seen her since early this morning when she made the rounds, assuming she had been busy all day. 

“What about Richter?” She asks the man in front of her. I can see the look of extreme curiosity on her face.

“He was my father,” the man says, and I see he’s out of breath.

Ms. Chambers’ face suddenly turns into a look of shock. The look on mine is probably similar.

“Let him go,” she tells the orderlies, and they comply. He rubs his arms and they walk away. “Come with me,” she says to him, and I watch as he follows her and they leave back down the hallway that she came from, presumably headed to her office.

I walk out of the bathroom and see Jess leaning over the desk.

“Is everything okay?” I ask her, feigning innocence. 

“Oh yeah, everything is cool,” she says to me. “Just a little mishap, but it seems like Ms. Chambers handled everything. Bree, it’s 9:30. Lights out is in a half hour. You should head back to your room now.”

“Sure thing,” I say, and head down the hallway towards my room. I duck behind a doorway and turn to make sure Jess is back with her head looking at her phone. When I’m positive she isn’t looking up, I quietly turn back (not wearing shoes around here has its perks), and head towards Ms. Chambers’ office. 

_No way I’m going to bed yet. Shit just got interesting around here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The lyrics at the beginning of the chapter in italics come from the song “Cemetary” by the band Strung Out.  
> \- The title of this chapter is a song by a band called Tiny Stills, in which the video for features Zach Villa aka The Night Stalker/Richard Ramirez. It was a complete coincidence that I felt the song was a good title chapter here, I swear...


	2. Getting There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bree meets Bobby Richter. They have a talk about the history of his father, Mr. Jingles, and she learns more about the victims of Camp Redwood. Later, she decides to make a drastic decision about her life path for when she gets discharged from the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, to anyone who may be reading, I’m sorry it took me a month to get this chapter up! The holidays and such did me in. And this also took a while for me to write. But now, I’ve set up where I want the story to go. 
> 
> Just a reminder, any text in bold with parentheses around them, is Bree breaking the fourth wall and addressing the reader. Most of her internal narratives will be in italics. I think that’s the best way to explain where I want to take this story. 
> 
> Happy 2020!

“Bree? You should be in bed!” Ms. Chambers’ voice rings in my ear. I knew I couldn’t keep away from her sharp, prying eyes (definitely made an attempt. How wrong I was.) The door to her office was open now, and I watch as she stares me down from the doorway with the man standing behind her. 

Staring at my feet, no response was coming to me. “I’m sorry, Ms. Chambers,” I say to her finally, forcing myself to make eye contact with her. I can’t tell what kind of look she has on her face as she’s eyeing me. Had she realized I had been standing outside her office door listening and heard muffles of her and the man’s bizarre conversation? I still couldn’t figure out in my head every single thing that they had been saying, but they were discussing Camp Redwood and it’s owner, Margaret Booth. Mr. Jingles had come up, and I swear I misheard, but I thought I had heard the word _ghosts_ come up more than once. Truth be told, none of what they had been discussing made much sense and I’m trying to hide my confusion as I stand there embarrassed. 

Still looking at my feet, Ms. Chambers speaks once more. 

“So I have to leave town for a couple of days,” she says to me, and my attention span perks enough to lift my head back up. “Sudden emergency,” she says, gripping her phone in her hand. “I’ll be leaving shortly, once I let the staff know and get my things in order. In the meantime, would you do me a favor and escort Mr. Richter to the exit? Tell Jess you have my permission to do so if she asks, because I know she will, and then I expect you to head right to bed once we leave.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say to her, shoving my hands into the pockets of my hoodie.

The man steps out from behind her. “You can just call me Bobby,” he says to me, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you,” I say to him as I shake his hand. Not surprisingly, his palm feels a little grimy from the dirt all over them. He clearly notices my wincing, and wipes his hand on his jacket when he lets go. 

“Sorry, I should have at least washed up,” he says. “I’ve had a very... weird day, to say the least.” 

“It’s cool,” I say to him. “I’m Briana - but you can call me Bree. Everyone does.” 

“Now that you two are acquainted,” Ms. Chambers interjects. “I’ll be outside shortly,” she says, turning her head to Bobby before turning it back to me. “And you,” she says, her eyes shifting into cold seriousness, “Get back to your room as soon as I come out to meet him. I’m not trying to be Nurse Ratched here, but it’ll save us both a lot of trouble.”

“Understood,” I say, and watch as Ms. Chambers retreats back into her office, closing the door behind her. 

I look up at Bobby, and nod for him to follow me as we walk back down the hall. 

“So,” he says, after a few minutes of silence and turning to look at me. “How much did you hear?”

I snap out of my haze, as I had been trying to make it obvious I wasn’t staring at him, but the dried blood on his forehead was also distracting to me. 

“Sorry, uh, what?” I ask.

Bobby sticks his own hands in his pants pockets and continues to walk with me down the hall. “Oh, come on,” he says, and his lips shift into a smirk. “I saw you out in the hallway when I first came in here earlier, before I met with Donna. And I definitely saw you following us to her office out of the corner of my eye.” 

_Well, fuck._

“That’s what I get for trying to be sneaky,” I say, trying to be as quiet as possible. “I’m not very good at it. But I heard - I heard some mumblings between you two. Something about Camp Redwood and the people who died there. I know a little about it.”

Bobby suddenly gets quiet, as he turns and looks both ways and over his shoulder, before speaking again. 

“How - what exactly do you know?” He lowers his head and whispers.

I shrug, trying to remember exactly what I had read. 

“I know there were a few massacres that occurred there,” I say. “The one that your father was involved in... or wasn’t involved in...”

Bobby’s lips shift again, this time into a small smile. “Guess you heard that part,” he says. “Donna tells me he was framed. By Margaret Booth, the real estate mogul. Do you know about that?”

I turn and look in front of me, seeing we were approaching the exit and the waiting area. 

“Bree -“ Jess starts to speak, leaning her head over the reception desk. 

“It’s cool, Jess,” I say to her. “Ms. Chambers told me to take this man outside and wait for her there.”

Jess smiles at me. “I know,” she says, giving me the thumbs up. “Ms. Chambers called in to me a few minutes ago and told me. You’re all good for now, but you have to promise me you’ll head back to bed as soon as they leave.”

“Don’t worry,” I say to her. We’ve reached the doors to the hospital now. Bobby pushes one of the glass doors open and politely allows me to step in front of him as we exit the building. I lean up against the wall and stick my hands in the front pockets of my hoodie. Bobby positions himself against the wall next to me and looks both ways, and into the glass door of the asylum, before looking down at me and speaking again. 

“Probably best that we discuss all this outside, anyway,” he says, taking one hand out of his pocket. “If they heard us talking about any of it, they’d definitely lock me away for sure this time.”

I giggle, and let him continue speaking. 

“So you know about how Margaret was a counselor at the camp, in 1970, and murdered nine other counselors?” He asked. “She framed my father for it. Took a pair of his keys and cut off...” He sucks in a breath. “Cut off an ear on each victim. To mimic what the stories say he had learned in Vietnam. He was arrested the following day.”

“Yeah, I do know that much,” I say to him, reaching my hand up to scratch an itch on my shoulder. 

“I never imagined that, not in a million years,” Bobby says, looking down at me. “I studied this case inside and out. But, I believe Donna. I don’t think she would have a reason to lie to me.”

“I definitely heard what she said to you, about Margaret Booth,” I say. “She told you she was thorough, opportunistic, smart...”

“A straight up psychopath,” Bobby finishes my sentence, repeating the words I had heard come from Ms. Chambers behind the door. “As she said, ‘put that into a blender and you’ve got one of the most vicious serial killers of the 20th century’. From what she says, Margaret Booth was pretty ruthless. I can’t say I ever expected that.” 

“None of the research I did myself said anything about that whatsoever,” I say. 

“And none of it will. The information I’ve gotten from Donna is the first I’ve ever heard of this,” Bobby says, scratching his chin and wiping some of the blood and dirt on his forehead away. “So what else did you hear?”

**(This dude’s a smart one, isn’t he? He definitely knows I heard more than I let on. Also, let me tell you, am I regretting my decision to not wear a bra - my chest itches and I don’t want to scratch my tits in front of a cute guy... damn it).**

“Some mumblings about ghosts,” I say to him. 

“I didn’t want to say too much in front of the receptionist,” he whispers. “Even though Donna’s on my side, I didn’t want to risk having her try and get me put away again. So, you heard the parts about how I was up at Redwood today? Before I came here.” 

I nod to him. Some of the conversation had been muffled, considering I was listening through a closed door, but that was something I had heard from him. He told Donna he had fallen a couple of times while up there, which I assumed explained some of his injuries. But there were other pieces of what they discussed that had been difficult for me to make out, and some of it didn’t make sense to me either. 

Bobby looks around again, before he reaches into his bulky jacket, pulls out a binder with a rubber cover and hands it to me. 

“I left my backpack and most of my stuff behind up at the camp, but I managed to keep this with me,” he says. “Feel free to look through it. It’s a hefty compiled listing of every victim I could find, beginning in 1948. When it gets to 1970 and beyond, many of them were supposedly murdered at the hands of my father. Although now, I’m hearing that with a few exceptions, it’s mostly not true. Pretty much everything I thought was true has been a massive lie. My head is pretty messed up right now, I’m telling you.” 

I start flipping through the binder and while I recognize some names of the victims, I hadn’t ever seen photos of them, so this is all pretty surreal to me. Bobby’s research is just as thorough as Ms. Chambers claims Margaret Booth’s story was. 

The book starts off with a page marked _Victims of Camp Golden Star, summer 1948_. Amongst a few camp counselors and a lifeguard, I see a photo of a pretty woman with long blonde hair named Lavinia Richter, and a young boy, listed age 9, with blonde hair... named Robert “Bobby” Richter. 

I peer up at him and I’m sure he notices the startled look on my face. 

“Yup. That woman,” he says, pointing to the photo of the blonde lady, “Was my grandmother. My father’s mother. Every source I’ve found says he murdered her in cold blood that summer, but that never made sense to me. He was only 12 years old. The boy was his brother. My uncle. He named me after him, obviously.” 

I continue flipping through the binder, going through the victims of the second massacre in 1970. Towards the end of the book, I reach the victims who died between 1984-1989, the most recent and final batch, all of whom that, as I said, I’ve seen their names printed but never actually seen photos of. 

There’s Chet Clancy, whom I read had originally been a member of Team USA for gymnastics and was supposed to compete in the ‘84 Summer Olympics down in LA, but had been disqualified due to failing a couple of drug tests. In the photo of Chet, I notice he was pretty good looking, with brown hair styled into a bit of a pseudo-mullet, and it’s a photograph of him wearing a red, white and blue track suit. He looks built, which makes sense since he was an athlete. There’s Ray Powell, who is black and who’s hair is also in a sort of mullet-esque style. It’s only a head shot, but he’s wearing a collared shirt with blue and white stripes. He’s also pretty attractive **(I feel** **weird as hell for thinking that all of these dead guys were hot).** Montana Duke, a woman with big, heavily teased blonde hair, who’s wearing a black headband. It’s also a headshot, with the logo at the bottom of the page bearing the words “Perfect 10 Aerobics, instructor.” Next is Trevor Kirchner, who I remember that was the name of Margaret Booth’s husband at the time of her disappearance, and was among the victims found at the camp in 1989. Trevor is wearing a gold silk robe in the photo - his brown hair is shaped in a shaggy 1970’s style, and I can’t help but giggle at the thick, bushy brown mustache that adorns his face. 

“Wow, Trevor Kirchner had an amazing porn-stache,” I say to Bobby, giggling. I see him rolling his eyes. 

“Funny you should say that,” he says, “Because apparently, the guy also had an enormous...” He suddenly stops talking and turns his head away from me. 

“An enormous what?” I ask. I haven’t gotten that far into my research, so I’m curious to know what Bobby knows. 

He turns to look at me again. “Personality,” he replies, and smirks. “Nice guy. Really nice.” 

I can’t help but wonder what his smirk was about, but I ignore it, being far too curious regarding something else Bobby has just said to me. 

“You read enough about him to know that?” I ask. “Was he a philanthropist or something? I guess I kind of assumed if he was married to Margaret Booth, he was probably just as deranged as she was.” 

Bobby shrugs. “I don’t know a whole lot about what he did when he was married to her,” he says. “I do know that he was also an aerobics instructor before they were married. He was working as the activities director at the camp in ‘84. Was supposedly stabbed and had his ear cut off by my father during that massacre, although Donna told me before that Margaret Booth was the one responsible. He was lucky that time - the stab wound just missed his heart and he went into a coma. He came out of it and miraculously fully recovered. Not so much the second time in ‘89; his body was found in the camp’s entrance way with multiple gunshot wounds. Donna tells me it was Margaret framed my father for them both with him, and again, she was thorough - both the knife from the original attempt and the gun found in her cabin in ‘89 had any fingerprints wiped clean off. It’s honestly no wonder people didn’t suspect her. In addition to testifying in the original trial and losing her own ear, she was good at covering her tracks. I’m still shocked at everything Donna said.” He takes a deep breath, and continues to speak. “Trevor? He just was really nice to me this afternoon. Him and Montana both spent a good few hours discussing my father’s involvement at the camp and how they haven’t seen him - “

“Wait, wait, stop right there,” I say, holding up my hand. “Him and Montana? Montana Duke? But they’re both dead, right?”

Bobby looks at me, a look of utter seriousness. “I thought you heard most of what we discussed,” he says. 

I shrug. “I heard a lot, but there’s clearly a ton I missed. Excuse me for being blunt, but what the hell are you even talking about?” I ask him. I’m so beyond confused now. 

He leans his head down and his voice lowers about an octave. “Trevor. Montana. Every person in this folder,” he points his finger on the binder. “... is dead. They’re most certainly dead. They’re all ghosts and they’re all up there living, or I guess haunting, on the grounds of Camp Redwood.” 

My eyebrows raise and my eyes widen. 

**(Dude has _got_ to be shitting me.)**

“I mean, I did hear Ms. Chambers say something about ‘ghosts’ a few times, but I...” I start to say. 

Bobby takes a step back. “Oh, you must have thought she was exaggerating,” he says quietly. “She meant actual, literal ghosts. Every person in this book who died up at Redwood haunts the property. I didn’t believe it myself, but I met the spirits of Trevor and Montana this very afternoon. They proved it to me - I had, I brought some weapons up there with me. Wasn’t sure if I needed them or not. Figured it couldn’t hurt to have protection, just in case. Montana used my gun and shot herself in the head, right in front of me...”

My breath hitches in shock, but I let Bobby finish. 

“I’m standing there, her body is lying on one of the beds of the cabin we were in, hole in the middle of her forehead!” He says, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “Then Trevor, he actually fucking tells me to stab him, and of course I refuse to. So he picks up my knife and slices his neck right in front of me! I didn’t know what do, I was just standing there completely in shock, then there’s a knock on the door... its Montana and Trevor walk right inside, and both right in as if nothing happened! Thankfully, they had some whiskey in a flask there, because lord knows I needed it after witnessing what I just had.” 

I stand there, jaw open. I don’t know what to say at all. Somehow though, I believe him. He sounds sincere, and the look on his face says it.

Bobby clearly sensed my own shock. “It’s a lot to take in, I know,” he says. “There’s even more to the story. I don’t know how much else you heard...”

I pull my hoodie down to keep warm. “I heard a little about that famous serial killer Richard Ramirez, the Night Stalker, went missing on the property, I think,” I say. “I’m guessing he’s dead and his is ghost up there too?”

“That he is,” Bobby says, looking up at a window above us. I look up as well, and see Ms. Chambers’ office window two floors up. I see her reflection in the window and watch carefully as the lights in her office turn off. 

“Looks like Donna will be down here soon,” Bobby says. “I’ll tell you what else I know as quick as I can before she gets here. So apparently, my father supposedly was working in cahoots with Ramirez...”

“Yeah, I knew that much,” I say. “I read about it doing a little of my own research.”

“It was well documented, so I knew that too,” he continues. “What I didn’t know, is that Ramirez apparently had sold his soul to Satan, and was responsible for killing my mother. And he would have killed me too. He had some kind of deal with my father, said the devil brought him back to life. I don’t understand any of it - but apparently my father turned Ramirez into the authorities. Ramirez swore revenge by wanting to go back and kill me. But all the ghosts up at Redwood, have been keeping his soul there since 1989. They’ve been watching him like a hawk every day and making sure he doesn’t leave the grounds. They’ve been... protecting me. But Ramirez got loose somehow today, and chased me, stabbed me too. Hence the injuries.”

He points to the dried blood on his forehead and also turns around to show me his jacket ripped on the back, equally covered in dried blood. 

“I don’t know if I believe in Satan. Or any of that,” he says, turning back around. 

“I don’t know if I do either,” I say, cutting him off. 

**(My family does, however... but that’s another story altogether. We won’t discuss that just yet. Again, nothing personal).**

Bobby sighs, and turns when we both hear someone calling his name from behind us. I turn as well, and can see Ms. Chambers talking to Jess up by the front desk. 

“But you know what?” He continues to me. “Until today, I didn’t believe ghosts were real either. So now, I don’t know what to believe. I do know, however, that my father was framed for most of those murders, and Donna and I are going to find out more.”

“What else do you need to know?” I ask curiously. 

Bobby leans down and lowers his voice. He keeps peering over his shoulder, presumably to see if Ms. Chambers is coming outside yet. When she doesn’t, he speaks. 

“Someone’s been sending me checks every year,” he whispers. “The reason I went to Redwood in the first place was because I assumed my father was alive and sending them; that was the last place he had been seen. According to Montana and Trevor, he’s dead. Donna and I are going to trace the source of the checks and try to figure out where they’re coming from. She has an idea of who it might be, but we don’t know for sure. So...” 

I turn and so does Bobby. Ms. Chambers is finally coming outside. 

“We’re leaving. Right now. To get to the bottom of this,” he finishes, just as she exits the building.

“I’m all set with everything,” Ms. Chambers turns and says to him, holding her purse and her car keys in her hand. “Ready to go?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Bobby says, and turns to me once more. “It was nice meeting you, Bree,” he says as he holds his hand out and we shake again. He points to the binder that I’m still holding in my opposite hand. “You can keep that if you want. Reading material, since I know you’ve read up on the case. Trust me, you’ll probably find way more information in that book than you’ll ever find on the Internet or anywhere else.” 

“Thank you,” I respond, clutching the book to my chest. 

“Well, that’s really nice of you, Bobby,” Ms. Chambers says to him. I can see her smiling as she points out to the parking lot in front of the building. “I’m just over on that side, second car to the right,” she says. 

He nods, and turns to look at me again. 

“You take care of yourself,” he says to me. I manage to smile back at him. 

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone for,” Ms. Chambers says to me. “Shouldn’t be more than a couple days tops, but you never know. It could be a week at most. I think the last I checked, you’re due to be discharged in a few days, actually. Possibly by the end of the week.”

**(This is news to me...)**

“If you’re discharged and I’m not back yet, leave the book with Jess at the front desk and I’ll make sure Bobby gets it back,” she continues.

“No, it’s cool, Donna,” I hear Bobby say, even though he’s already started walking towards her car. “I told Bree she can keep it, and I mean for good. I don’t think I’ll need it anymore.” 

Ms. Chambers raises her eyebrow and then speaks again. “Well, in the event you do decide you don’t want it, just leave it for me. Good luck if I’m not here when you get back. You’ve done great so far. Now... I don’t want to sound like a tyrant, but you should get back to bed.”

I wave to both of them and watch them walk off towards Ms. Chambers’ car, before taking the binder with me and head back to my room.   
  


* * *

Since I don’t have a roommate currently, I turn the lights off, but while in bed, instead of sleeping, I use the flashlight on my phone to continue flipping through Bobby’s binder. 

I turn back to Ray Powell’s page, reading that prior to his body being found at Camp Redwood in 1984, he had been wanted by the Los Angeles police department for a possible involvement in the death of a recruit member of a fraternity at UCLA the previous year; Ray’s fingerprints and watch had been found on the remains of a body discovered in a burned car beneath a ravine. Witnesses said the body belonged to a college student who was pledging for Ray’s fraternity, and Ray had also been the last person seen with him during the night’s hazing activities. I recall having read parts of that in some of my own research, but only that Ray had been a possible suspect in the student’s disappearance, not everything else. Bobby certainly has done an excessive amount of research on this, and I’m impressed with everything I’m reading. 

Looking over Montana’s page, I see her official cause of death is the only one that is outlined in the book - she was stabbed to death by Brooke Thompson, one of the counselors from the camp in 1984 who was arrested on site as a result. Although from what I remember from Ms. Chambers and Bobby’s conversation, Brooke stabbed her in self defense as Montana was looking to kill her, and ended up being framed by Margaret for the rest of the murders when the police arrived. 

It was getting close to midnight, and I yawn, but stubbornly decide to keep looking through the binder and turn the page. I haven’t gotten past Montana’s files and I remember from my research that there was one other victim that I haven’t seen yet, who also worked at the same aerobics studio as she had. I remember that due to the fact that the victim had a very uncommon sounding name, Xavier Plympton. 

I flip the page over and finally see his file, right behind Montana’s. He’s another of the victims who’s name I’ve read but have never seen a photograph of, and I’m almost embarrassed to admit this, but when I get to his page, my phone falls out of my hand and onto my lap, the light reflecting onto the ceiling above me. 

I pick the phone back up and shine the light on the page in front of me, and all I can do is blink repeatedly. My jaw slowly falls open. 

Up until this point, I’ve already felt odd as hell for admitting that I think a handful of dead guys were attractive - even Trevor, with his silly porn-stache, was a really good looking dude. Xavier though, the photo in front of me is a headshot similar to Montana’s, also from Perfect 10 Aerobics, with the words “Xavier Plympton, instructor” slapped across the bottom in black text. My eyes are almost popping out of their sockets as I’m staring at the picture of the man in front of me. His facial features are speculator, beyond anything I’ve seen on most men **(alive ones? Wow, I feel creepy saying that.)** Sharp cheekbones and a jawline that’s well beyond perfect - Bobby’s was nice, but Xavier’s gives him a run for his money. His eyes are possibly the most amazing shade of pale blue I’ve ever seen - they’re incredible and I can’t stop staring at them. His hair is bleached blonde with frosted tips, in a typical 80’s style, and the cross earring he wears in his left ear reminds me of George Michael. Really, his whole vibe with the hair and the earring is George Michael and Simon Le Bon, with a smidge of Corey Haim circa _The Lost Boys_ -era thrown in. I can’t stop staring at his smug grin, with my eyes occasionally diverting to the purple and white windbreaker he’s wearing in the photo.   
  


Holy fuck. He was _gorgeous._ Bobby was an attractive guy for sure, and so are the photos of Ray and Chet, but this Xavier person is something else entirely. I can’t put my finger on it, but he looks almost otherworldly. 

I’m even more embarrassed to say that I don’t even realize when I eventually fall asleep, until I wake up a few hours later with my phone still on my lap, battery dead. When I go to plug it in after my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize that the binder is still open on my lap as well, to Xavier’s page.   
  
  


* * *

The following day after one of my morning group therapy sessions, one of the doctors who’s overseeing my case brings me back to my room and tells me that Ms. Chambers has called from being away, and according to my charts and progress, they would like to discharge me a day or two earlier than originally planned. I can be released tomorrow if I think it’s all right. 

I agree with their assessment, and tell them that later in the day, I’ll call my parents and arrange to have them come pick me up the next day around noon.

Later in the evening, I do call home, privately from the phone reserved for outgoing patients’ calls and close the door to the room behind me. But instead, after speaking with both my mother and father, I tell them that they’ve decided to keep me for further observation for a few more days. 

This isn’t going to end well with them. 

I don’t want to go home yet, but I don’t want to stay here either. I’m not ready to go back to the real world and my real world bullshit. After the last day and a half and reading about the Redwood victims, the idea of heading up there myself and hanging out with ghosts seems more appealing by the second. I’m not in my right mind, but I don’t care. I’m not ready to go anywhere back to reality yet. I know Bobby can’t go back there, but they wouldn’t mind another living person... would they? 

Guess there’s one way to find out.   
  


* * *

**The Following Day**

  
  
It’s around 12:30pm, and I’m officially discharged from Red Meadows Asylum. I handled all my own paperwork myself, and tell Jess that I’m taking an Uber to the bus station in town, which will take me back to Los Angeles and my mother will pick me up there. This isn’t a complete fabrication - I do get an Uber, and I do plan on going to the bus station, but not yet. 

First, I have the Uber drop me off at a Dick’s Sporting Goods store I’ve found just outside the town of Red Meadows. Using my credit card (which I haven’t touched in months), I purchase a pair of hiking boots, a flashlight with extra batteries, a water bottle with a built in filter, and after spying a smaller size lightweight hammock on sale, I say “fuck it” and buy that too. I don’t get too much stuff, considering I don’t know what I can carry and will be walking a lot, probably. Worst case, I can always head back down here and buy some more stuff if need be. 

Changing into the hiking boots and putting my sneakers into my duffel bag, my next stop after leaving Dick’s is the supermarket. I buy a decent sized bottle of water, two six packs of Top Ramen, some canned food, a container of instant coffee, and a couple of boxes of granola bars. I’m sure the camp has a kitchen or some place to store all this in, and I figure again, worst case scenario, I can head back here and buy more. I’m still good on both the toothpaste tube and deodorant stick that I brought to the asylum with me, so I buy a few travel size bottles of mouthwash, a bar of soap and bottles of shampoo and conditioner. Not a clue where I’ll be able to bathe at this place, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, should be prepared at most. 

I check out with everything and carry the paper bag, and my duffel bag over my shoulder, and hop on the public bus right to the bus terminal a short ride away. 

The bus ride is short, about forty five minutes, and the stop looks to be converted from an old gas station. A sign that says “Roy’s Gas” still hangs next to the station sign. 

It takes a few minutes to find a nearby car, but I finally get an Uber to take me another twenty minutes to where the road ends. I take my stuff and leave the car, after tipping the driver through my app. A five minute walk brings me to a wooden sign hanging via two large poles that I can see says _CAMP REDWOOD_ in faded, carved out letters. 

**  
(Well, this is it. No turning back. Here goes nothing.)**

It’s about a fifteen minute hike up the road past the sign and around the lake before I reach what I assume was once the entrance to the camp - another wooden sign that says _CAMP REDWOOD_ on the left hand side of a small, wood bridge. I see wooden and stone cabins, but also remnants of the music festival that Margaret Booth had attempted to hold there in 1989, before she went insane and murdered everyone (as Ms. Chambers had told Bobby). I pass by merchandise vendors’ booths with torn and shredded Billy Idol T-shirts, amongst other paraphernalia for 1980’s artists (presumably ones that had been scheduled to play the festival). There’s signs for bathrooms, cabins, and food that also presumably was for the festival as well. 

Approaching one of the larger buildings, I go to take my phone out. It’s almost 5pm, and I also notice that I have zero bars of reception as the _NO_ _SERVICE_ text flashes at the top left hand side of my phone’s screen.

 _Damn_ _it._

I do have two phone power banks with me, but if my family wants to get a hold of me, now they’ll know something is up if they try to reach me at the hospital and they tell them I left. _Fuck._

I put both the duffel bag and the paper bag with my groceries and toiletries down on the ground and hold my phone out, attempting to find a signal, when I hear what sounds like footsteps and voices coming up from behind. They’re getting closer...

“Hey, who the hell are _you_ now?” I hear a man’s voice say. 

I turn, and nearly drop my phone. I can’t believe my fucking eyes. Bobby was right - because Ray Powell, Chet Clancy and of all people, Xavier Plympton, are all standing right behind me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from “Getting There”, a song by Ramona, a pop punk band from Philadelphia, PA. It has a duel meaning - references to Bree both leaving the hospital because they feel she’s okay to be discharged, and an obvious reference to going to Redwood.


	3. Nervous Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry that this took forever, again! Some family issues and mild writer’s block caused me to be very slow on this chapter. What I ended up doing is, combining it with something else I had written for use in a later chapter, because it made sense to get the story going this way. 
> 
> Bree gets settled in at Redwood, meets all the ghosts, and spends time getting to know Xavier. Their first hookup is kind of awkward for them both, but I made it funny, because that’s just how this is gonna go for now. 
> 
> Surprise - there’s mild smut here! Pre-smut? Is that a thing?

  
**(Well, now. I’m standing on the grounds of an abandoned summer camp, _and_ there’s three ghosts standing directly in front of me. This isn’t weird or anything. Nope. Not at all.)**

“I said, who the hell are you now?” I hear the same voice from before repeat, realizing that it’s Ray’s. 

Holding my hands up, I take a step back. 

“Hey, relax guys, I come in peace,” I say to them, not knowing what else to. I put my hands down, shove my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and point to Ray. “This is gonna sound weird, but... I know you. I know all of you. You’re - you’re Ray Powell,” I say to him. “And you’re Chet Clancy,” I say to Chet. I turn to Xavier, who is just standing there looking confused. No words leave my mouth when I make eye contact with him. 

“Wait, sorry, and you are...?” Chet says, stepping forward to me. “How do you know all of us?”

I’m still too stunned to do much, but it occurs to me that they probably are, too. 

“Probably should’ve told you all that, huh?” I say, reaching down to grab my duffel bag. 

“Yeah, that would be helpful,” Xavier finally speaks. Hearing his voice for the first time is bizarre for me. 

Reaching into my bag, I pull out Bobby’s binder. “I met Bobby Richter the other day,” I say quietly as I open the book and show them. “He gave me this and I read about all of you. I know you’re all ghosts and haunt the grounds up here. I - I just wanted to come see it for myself.” 

The three men (ghosts?) all look slightly relieved. Ray steps forward and speaks again. 

“Bobby isn’t here with you, is he?” He asks curiously, looking around. 

“No, I’m alone,” I reply, still holding the binder in my hands. “I don’t think he even knows I came up here.” 

“Oh, that’s good news at least,” Xavier says, placing his hand on his forehead. “I really hope he stays away. Ramirez almost got him that one time. I don’t know how long ago that was...”

“Just the other day, I think,” I say to him. “If it was the same day I met him, that would be about three days ago.” 

“Shit... has it really only been three days since he’s been here?” Chet asks. 

I nod. 

“Sorry, you’ll have to excuse us,” Ray chimes in. “Our concept of time gets a little screwy up here. We don’t know how long goes by - hours, weeks, days, years. For all we know, it could be 20... fuck, what year did Bobby tell Montana it was now?” 

“2019,” I reply. “It’s July 22nd, 2019.” 

If it’s possible for three ghost men to collectively sigh together, that’s what happens next. 

“Anyway, uh, I’m Briana. Briana Connors. You all can just call me Bree,” I say to them. “Bobby told me the story, about all of you, his father, Margaret Booth, the camp. I know pretty much all of it. Even about Richard Ramirez, the Night Stalker...” I pause and look around, realizing it hadn’t even occurred to me that his spirit was also haunting the grounds. I’m not so smart. 

“He’s - he’s not anywhere near by, is he?” I say nervously, trying to conceal the beads of sweat that have formed on my forehead. It’s been warm out today, but that’s not necessarily why I’m sweating. 

“Oh, don’t worry about him. I think a couple of the others should be on duty with him up at the shack today,” Ray replies. “Did Bobby tell you about what we do here every day with him?” 

I shake my head, although I definitely heard some mumblings from his conversation with Donna, but I couldn’t fully make it all out. 

Xavier steps forward now and holds his hand out. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, and I take it. His palm feels surprisingly... normal? I don’t know if I expected a dead person’s hand to feel any different. His hand is soft. 

“I’m Xavier,” he says, looking down at me. Holy shit... his eyes are even more beautiful in person. (Could this be considered “in person”?) Not just his eyes. So is he. I catch a glint of sunlight reflecting off his cross earring as it dangles, and I remember that I should probably say something back. 

“I know. Xavier Plympton. You’re in here too,” I say finally.

He grins. “Montana told us that Bobby did this crazy amount of research about all of us,” he says. “She only saw a little bit of his book though. I’m curious if I can see it later?” He pauses, then continues when he looks at my feet. “You have all this stuff with you. Were you planning on sticking around here?” 

I nod again. “My life at home is kind of... well...” I stop for a second, not really sure how to explain that I just decided impulsively to come live on the grounds of an abandoned summer camp that’s haunted by ghosts, after being discharged from a psychiatric hospital instead of going home. “The whole idea of checking out a haunted campsite seemed cool to me,” is what I end up saying. “So, uh, I might... stay here a while? If that’s okay with all of you.”

Xavier takes a step back and looks at Ray and Chet. The two of them look back at him. 

“Give us a second,” Ray says as he scratches his head, and all three of them go off a couple of inches away to speak privately. This could go one or two ways - I selfishly didn’t even think to consider whether or not they even wanted a living person on the grounds with them. I hang back and hear them whispering, not knowing what else to do. 

They talk for what feels like forever, but is probably only a few minutes, when Xavier (of all of them) leaves Ray and Chet and approaches me once more. 

“Listen. Bree, right?” He says, and I nod. Hearing him say my name sounds weird as well. **(I’m gonna have to get over this if I’m staying up here, aren’t I?)**

“We talked it over. Before Bobby, nobody had come up here in a long time. But we all swore an oath to ourselves that we would protect him...” Xavier pauses and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t finish.

“Protect him from Ramirez,” I say. “I know. Bobby told me.” 

“Yeah, so you know about it then,” he continues finally. “Anyway, we’ll need to discuss it with the other ghosts, but the truth is, if Bobby gave you that book of his and told you about us, and you aren’t running off scared shitless, I think that pretty much means that we can probably trust you.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” I respond. “And I do appreciate it. I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but I - I mean, I just need to stay away from the real world for a while, that’s all.”

“Well, up here’s as far from the real world as you could possibly get,” Chet says. “If you’re cool hanging out with ghosts with no electricity and running water, it’s fine by us. Montana told us a little about those cordless phone things of yours.” He points towards my back pocket. 

“Hey, I got service on my phone right outside the camp gates,” I say. “If I have to leave for anything or use it, I can take a cab into town.” (I purposely choose not to say “Uber” since they won’t know what it is). I point down to my both my bag and the paper bag of groceries. “I did bring some stuff with me; clothes and groceries and whatnot.” The asylum had an on sight washer and dryer for patients to use, and I had done a wash of all of my clothes I brought with me right before leaving. 

Ray shrugs and brushes the back of his neck. “Guess we better get you settled somewhere,” he says. “Maybe introduce you to the others. Where, uh, where do you think she can sleep?” He asks the others. 

“One of the cabins behind the showers is empty,” Xavier says. “There’s still blankets and pillows and sheets in the closet there too, I think. Come on, we’ll take you there and then bring you on a tour if you want.”

He politely picks up my duffel bag when I go to reach for it. “I’ll get this. Looks heavy,” he says, grinning to me. I manage a small smile back at him, and think I can see Ray and Chet looking at each other out of the corner of my eye. 

“I brought food with me, too,” I say, holding up the paper bag with the groceries as I follow them. 

“That was smart of you. We’ll bring that up to the mess hall and leave it with Bertie in a bit,” Ray says, walking alongside me as Xavier and Chet go in front. 

“Bertie?” I ask, remembering that I saw her name amongst the 1984 victims in Bobby’s binder. “She’s the camp chef, right?” 

“Damn, you did your research,” Ray responds. “Yeah, she is.”

“Not me. It’s all in here, and you can thank Bobby for that,” I say, realizing I’m still holding the binder in my opposite hand. Ray starts asking me questions and I can barely respond as I take in the surroundings around me, and try to not be too obvious that I’m partially staring at Xavier’s ass in his tight white shorts as he walks in front of me. _Stop it, Bree. Don’t be like this to the people (ghosts?) who are showing you this unexpected hospitality. Damn it, I’m an asshole._

I suddenly snap out of my insecurity trance when we pass the outdoor showers. It hadn’t occurred to me that this place most likely didn’t have running water. Out of weird curiosity, I stop everyone and run into them just to check. Turn on a faucet and nothing, just as I expected. This is gonna be problematic. I’ll head back down to Dick’s tomorrow if I can. Maybe Walmart has something. I probably should have gotten a catalog before I left the store and looked at more camping gear. So much for impulsive decisions. 

“There’s definitely no running water, like Chet said, if that’s what you’re trying to do,” I hear Xavier’s voice behind me. I turn and suddenly see him standing right next to me. That was out of nowhere. 

“Yeah, I admit I didn’t plan this very well,” I shly respond as I return to them and we continue to walk. “I’ll figure something out. It’s too hot and I’ll stink if I don’t bathe.”

I hear Ray and Chet giggling. Xavier doesn’t reply; instead, he strangely moves a little closer to me while still holding my bag. 

“For what it’s worth, you actually smell pretty good,” he says very quietly, but probably not quietly enough - I see Ray glaring at him out of the corner of my eye and Chet keeps giggling. Xavier just shrugs and I’m sure my face has turned beet red. 

Nobody says anything more, but think I catch him smiling at me briefly. Immediately, I turn my head and look away. 

“We’re here,” Ray says, and I look up to notice we’ve stopped in front of a cabin. 

“This one’s been empty for a long time. None of the ghosts use it, so feel free to crash here if you want,” Xavier says, settling my bag on the front steps. “And also if you want,” he continues, “We can take you on a brief tour of the place before the sun goes down, like Ray said.”

“Heh. This kinda reminds me of the night we all got here,” Chet speaks up. “We also got a tour of the camp, before all that shit hit the fan that night. Little did we know.” 

I keep forgetting that everyone who died in 1984 died the very night they got there. I have to wonder - maybe I should be more sensitive with my words next time. 

**(One thing is for sure, I absolutely want Xavier to give me a tour of the camp. Any time to stare at him is good with me. I’m terrible. I know. Don’t judge me.)**

I clearly am too excited in this moment, because I open the door to the cabin and toss my duffel bag inside, as well as the grocery bag. I can bring that up to the kitchen later. 

Heading back out on the porch, I stand right next to Xavier. 

“Ready for this tour,” I say. I look down at my phone. It’s now a little past 6pm, so we have a good couple of more hours of sunlight left, I assume. Considering I’ve been inside for well over a week, being outdoors in the early evening doesn’t bother me at all. 

Xavier doesn’t respond. He simply smiles and motions for me to follow him, Ray and Chet once more. I smack my arm, assuming that a mosquito probably just bit me. Better add bug spray to the list of crap I need to buy tomorrow that I didn’t think to. 

We pass by a circle of wooden benches surrounding a campfire and I see a few people sitting around it. There’s a young man with brown hair in a shaggy, 70’s style cut and a mustache, a brunette girl and a blonde girl. All three of them are wearing white ringer T-shirts with a Camp Redwood logo on them; the man’s is covered by a tan collared shirt. I recognize them as three of the victims from the 1970 massacre. Ray briefly introduces them to me - the young man is named Eddie; the brunette girl is Helen, and the blonde is Midge. When I shake Midge’s hand, I can’t help but notice that she has tiny little sunflower shaped earrings adorning her ears. I try to hold my composure, as I remember specifically reading in Bobby’s binder that an ear with a sunflower earring in the lobe was found amongst the bodies in the cabin when they arrested his father in 1970. She seems nice enough; no need to tell her that I had just read about that. 

Xavier starts telling them a little about how I’ve come up to the camp to stay for a bit when another guy, this time with longer brown hair, a tan jacket, bell bottoms and wearing a green, red and white headband approaches us and comes by the campfire. He introduces himself as Jonas, and I recognize him too - he’s Jonas Shevoore, yet another one of Margaret Booth’s 1970 victims that Benjamin Richter was framed for. He starts asking me some questions when I hear two more voices coming up in the distance. 

“Hey, what’s going on? Who is this?” I hear a woman’s voice. Turning my head past Jonas, I see Montana Duke and Trevor Kirchner coming up towards us. 

“Relax, Montana,” Xavier says, holding his hands up as she approaches me. He unexpectedly reaches out and puts his hand on my shoulder, which causes me to flinch slightly. 

“This is Bree. She’s a friend of Bobby’s,” he says, which causes Montana’s eyes to widen. “She’s got some shit going on and apparently Bobby told her all about us. She came to crash here for a while - Ray, Chet and I said it’s cool, as long as it’s okay with everyone else.” 

Trevor shrugs and steps forward, extending his hand out to me. “Listen, if you’re a friend of Bobby’s, and know everything about all of us, that’s fine by me,” he says. “I’m Trevor. It’s great to meet you.” He shakes my hand. I find myself staring at his mustache, which despite having laughed at it when I first saw, actually looks good on him “in person.” I take back everything I thought. 

Montana, on the other hand, seems a little hesitant to come up to me. Regardless, she still does after a minute and shakes my hand. 

“I’m Montana. Nice to meet you, for sure,” she says. “I’m sorry - I think we’re all a little surprised. Nobody had been up here in years before Bobby, and now you...”

“Hey, I get it,” I say to her, and genuinely meaning it. 

“I, uh, we were giving Bree a tour of the camp,” Xavier pipes up. “Before it gets dark. Introduce her around to everyone.” 

“Hey, I’ll come too,” Montana says, kissing Trevor on the lips briefly as she joins us and we leave him sitting around the campfire. I didn’t realize she and him were together. They’re definitely cute - and it makes me feel somewhat better about him knowing that he clearly doesn’t miss Margaret Booth. As I had said to Bobby, the fact that they were married had initially worried me about Trevor, but he genuinely seems like an okay person. 

Chet and Ray separate from us when we pass by an old, dilapidated looking building and I’m once again briefly introduced to more people who are leaving. It’s three young looking guys this time - their names are Larry, Keith and Pete. I recognize them also as victims from 1984 in Bobby’s book. They leave us as Chet and Ray head up to the building. 

“Where are they headed?” I ask curiously. “And I only know a little bit about those other guys. They were in Bobby’s book, but all it said was that their bodies were found at the camp. I don’t think they worked here.” 

“Oh, God,” Montana says, rolling her eyes as she walks along a dirt path with Xavier and I. “They were some asshole townie kids who randomly showed up that night at the camp. They were all wearing Jingles masks - I guess it became a tradition for locals to dress up like him and fuck with businesses and whatnot.”

“Those idiots scared the fuck out of us,” Xavier says. “We had all finally figured out that Jingles was on the loose, and so was Ramirez. We’d separated and Trevor realized he left his motorcycle keys in one of the cabins, so I went with him and Montana up to get them. I...” He suddenly pauses and looks down before speaking again. “We were in there and heard the door being barged. We were scared out of our minds, thinking Jingles was coming for us. Then suddenly, there’s a ball of fire that comes crashing through the window of the cabin and Trevor stomps on it to put it out, but when he does, the entire cabin just smells like absolute shit.” 

“And that’s exactly what it was,” Montana continues the story as we keep walking. “Those dumbasses tossed a flaming bag of shit into the window to fuck with us! We were all pretty pissed, needless to say, but then the real Jingles comes up behind them and Keith gets stabbed to death. We all ran for our lives. Larry told us later that Jingles shoved his knife into him then and cut his ear off.” 

I can’t help but bite my finger at hearing this story. I can’t lie - this entire situation is pretty gruesome, and I feel terrible that these people who’ve been so generous and friendly to me so far all had to die in such horrendous ways. 

“By the way,” Xavier adds, pointing to the building. “Probably best for you to stay away from there. We call that the ‘Spooky Shack’. That’s where we keep Ramirez.”

My head raises at the sound of the Night Stalker’s name. 

“We all go in shifts every day, a few at a time,” Montana says. “He sold his soul to Satan, all those years ago apparently. He died and resurrected. I’m sure Bobby told you...”

“He did, but not many specifics,” I interrupt her. “He basically just told me you all keep him from leaving the grounds.”

I’m trying to keep my attention as we circle back past the mess hall and the lake, thinking I feel a hand on my back. Turning my head, I see Montana has walked ahead of us a little and Xavier is hanging back, walking really close to me, but both his hands are at his side. 

“We all take our turns keeping watch on him, every day and night, until he wakes up,” he suddenly says to me, still walking close. “We’ve gotten creative with ways to kill the dude. I’m a big fan of the chainsaw, personally speaking.” 

He smiles at me and I can’t help but chuckle a little. 

I open my mouth with an attempt to say something to him, anything, but don’t get to, because I’m interrupted by Montana, who I can see is walking backwards and facing us. 

“Bobby didn’t tell us too much about 2019,” she says, her heels slightly digging into the dirt as she walks and faces us. “But I did ask him to tell me what people thought of the 80’s. He never got to really tell me though. So, maybe you could fill me in a little bit?” 

I shrug. “What do you want to know, exactly?” 

“He told us that aerobics is basically dead, but the music and the clothes are having kind of a comeback?” I can hear a slight pep in her voice now and she’s smiling wide. 

“He’s right about aerobics,” I say. “And also about the music and clothes. ‘80’s music’ is considered a genre in itself sometimes. You still always hear 80’s popular hits on the radio and whatnot.” 

Xavier smirks. “Funny you should mention that, because I’m sure you read that Kajagoogoo died during that music festival that Margaret attempted to have,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Now we have to live with them having band practice in that clearing up ahead, right where the stage was set up, for all eternity.” He points in front us and I see that we’re back at what’s left of the stage and the vendor booths that I saw when I first got here. 

As we approach the stage pieces, I can faintly hear music that gets louder as we get closer, music that I hadn’t heard earlier...

_“You’re too shy shyyyy/ hush-hush, eye to eyeeeee...”_

I can see the specters of the deceased band members doing exactly what Xavier had described - having a rehearsal right by the stage, performing a song that has annoyed the ever living fuck out of me for years. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry you guys have to deal with that,” I say to them, as Montana laughs. “Can I at least go ask them to play ‘The Neverending Story’ instead?” 

It’s Montana’s turn to roll her eyes. “If you bring that one up, they’ll say it’s from Chris Hamill’s solo career and they refuse to perform it with him,” she states before leaning in to whisper to me, “But that’s a big fat lie. I’ve heard them play it sometimes.” 

“I prefer it to the other one,” Xavier says. “Guilty pleasure. Same with Chet. He hums it under his breath sometimes. He told us all he took his younger cousin to see the movie the weekend it came out, which was the week before we all came here in 1984. I think it reminds him of that time. Can’t really blame him.” 

“Makes sense to me,” I say. “That song has been having a bit of a resurgence itself this summer even.” 

Montana’s eyes widen again as we end up back at the stages. “No way!” she says, laughing. “Of all songs that people still listen to, that one?” 

“Well, it was used in a popular TV show that’s around right now,” I inform them. “The show takes place in the 80’s and that song was a big part of the plot in its most recent season.” 

Xavier and Montana both stop dead in their tracks. 

“They’re making TV shows set in the 80’s?” He asks, raising his eyebrow. “What the hell kind of show is this?” 

“It’s actually a great show,” I say. “It’s called _Stranger Things_. It’s kind of science fiction and horror and takes place in a small town in Indiana. Plot started in 1983 and the current season is in ‘85. A lot of it is also an homage to 70’s and 80’s movies and shows, too.”

“Well, shit,” Montana replies. “I wish we had a TV up here so we could watch it!” 

I think to myself that I could probably show it to them on my tablet, but since I don’t have phone service up here, WiFi or an Internet connection is probably the same. Maybe another day I’ll at the very least explain what Netflix is to all of them. 

Montana stops and holds her hands out. “That’s basically the entire place,” she says. “I think I saw Ray bringing your food up to the mess hall, so if you wanna get something, you can head up there with someone in a bit. I do hope you brought enough clothes, cause there’s not really anywhere to wash stuff. I might have some things you can borrow though.” 

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I say, but I notice one of the merchandise vendors booths out of the corner of my eye and get an idea. I make my way over to where the Billy Idol shirts are hanging. Most of them are torn, but I dig under the table and sure enough, there’s a cardboard box covered in dust hiding underneath. Somehow, the flaps are open. Reaching into the box, I find exactly what I’m looking for: a number of unused Billy Idol T-shirts of varying sizes, mostly in decent condition, except for the dust. Rummaging through the box, I pull out a few sized smalls and mediums and throw them over my shoulder. 

“Whoa!” Xavier exclaims as they walk over. 

“Let me grab some of those!” Montana says to me, as she crawls over the booth table and takes a few from the box. “I never even thought to look down here! I can’t believe these shirts have been here this entire time!” 

“What even made you think of it?” Xavier asks, as he comes over and pulls a T-shirt out for himself. 

“I’ve worked at a couple of venues and clubs in LA before,” I say to them, heading back from around the booth. “Working merch tables like this is something I’ve done more than once. Under the table is generally where you keep the surplus of items that the musicians give you. It’s handy when you run out of them and people want to buy more. It just made sense to me that if Billy Idol’s booth was set up and there’s shirts hanging that are torn, there would probably be more undamaged ones hiding somewhere. If any of the other acts who were supposed to play the Redwood festival had anything set up, there’s probably more clothes hiding around there.” I point to the row of vendor booths, but realize that it’s worthless - everything else is empty. 

“Yeah, definitely nobody else but Billy Idol would have had stuff here,” Montana says. “Trevor told us that he sent everyone away, including all the other acts. Except for Kajagoogoo, of course. Billy Idol was here, but he and his crew all bailed and left their shit behind. Nobody else had a chance to set up. Still, this is really cool to know that we have more clothes! Thanks, Bree!” 

  
The rest of the tour isn’t that eventful. Xavier and Montana take me up to the mess hall, where I meet Chef Bertie, a slightly older woman with brown hair who wears an apron and a white jacket. Also there is a short man with spiky brown hair and a hint of a Southern drawl who’s introduced to me as Courtney, who tells me that he was Margaret Booth’s assistant once, only to have her shoot him in the head at the camp office when he informed her that Trevor was sending all of the performers and attendees away. 

Bertie shows me around the kitchen and stashes my bag of groceries next to the pantry. She also offers me any help I need with cooking, informing me that they do have a ton of canned food there, but couldn’t tell me the expiration date on any of them. She seems really nice - I think I might take her up on her offer for cooking help. I know a little bit, but that could give me something to do around here. 

After realizing that, of course, the stove doesn’t work because no electricity, Bertie hands me a bucket filled with water from the lake and I go outside with her, Montana and Xavier to the campfire pit. The sun has just started to go down, so Bertie helps me light a fire and tosses a wire cooking rack on top of it. Using the water bottle’s filter first, I take a small pot that she gave me from the kitchen and make myself a bowl of ramen. Xavier takes a seat next to me while I eat my noodles, with Bertie and Montana sitting across from me, eventually joined by some of the others (including Ray and Chet). They spend some time talking to me and asking more about what life in 2019 is like. Chet in particular asks a question wanting to know about music, and I watch everyone’s faces fall in dismay when I inform them that both Prince and George Michael have died within just the last few years. 

“What about Billy Idol?” Montana asks, although I see everyone giving her a weird look. 

“Oh, he’s not only still alive, he still performs!” I respond, slurping some of my noodles and desperately trying to not embarrass myself in front of Xavier at the same time. 

“Better not tell Ramirez that,” he chimes in. “He might really try to get out now!” 

“How did he even get loose the other day?” I ask suddenly. “I thought you all watched him like a hawk, day and night.” 

Everyone suddenly stares at Chet; and then their eyes pan over to Bertie. Chet looks at the ground and stares at his feet. Bertie just excuses herself, gets up and walks away. Not knowing what that’s about, I continue to keep eating, tell everyone more about me and answer their questions. 

I hang out with everyone for a good couple of hours, listening to their stories of watching over Ramirez and hearing some of what they spend their days and nights doing. Xavier talks to me quite a bit, and I think I catch him watching me leave when I excuse myself and head back to the cabin where I’ve decided to stay for the night. 

* * *

**Day Two at Redwood**

  
I wake up late the next day, around 11am, not realizing how tired I am and my body clearly is taking advantage of not having to wake up at 8am on the nose for breakfast like at the hospital. Since I can’t shower, I get dressed and at least brush my hair and put on deodorant. I grab my phone, and see it’s luckily still around 50% battery. Turning on the battery saver, I take my wallet and the cord plus the power adapter - my plan is to head into town, grab some more gear, charge my phone, and call home so they aren’t worried about me. Eventually they’re going to figure out that I’m not at the hospital anymore, so I need to keep this ruse up as long as I can. 

Popping one of my morning medications with a swig from my water bottle, I head out of my cabin and as I’m walking over the bridge towards the road leading out of camp, I hear a voice behind me. 

“Leaving so soon? You just got here.” 

Turning around, who do I see? Take a wild guess. Xavier is standing there, his hand on his hip. 

“I forgot a few things that I need,” I say to him. “Plus, you know. Could use some coffee.”

Xavier laughs. “Coffee is one of the things I really miss about the real world,” he says in a melancholy sounding voice. “Kinda jealous of you right now, Bree.” 

He shoves his hands in his pants pockets before he speaks again. 

“I did want to ask if you wanted to take a walk or something,” he says in an almost shy voice. “But, clearly you’re busy right now.” 

**(Is this really happening??)**

Not knowing how to respond to him, I say the first thing that I can think of. 

“I mean, I also need to figure out how I’m gonna shower if we’re hanging out later,” I finally reply nervously. Of course, something I didn’t need to say. 

“I already told you, you don’t smell bad, but I totally get it,” he says. “I’ll take that as a rain check for later on though?” 

He moves slightly closer to me, and I stupidly take a step back. Fuck you, Bree. 

“I might be gone the whole day, but I’ll definitely come find you when I get back,” I say to him. 

“Is that a promise?” He grins. “Remember, I know where you live. Temporarily, anyway.” 

His grin turns into a smirk. I can’t tell if he’s flirting or not. I can never tell this shit. 

He waves to me as I walk away, not even sure what he’s getting at. 

* * *

  
The day is long, but productive. 

The first thing I do as soon as I get phone service outside of the camp is call my mother, who thankfully hadn’t called the hospital, and I’m able to once again play off that I’m not there. I have an Uber pick me up where I was dropped off and take me into town where my first stop is Walmart. In the camping supplies aisle, I find a portable hanging shower that’s solar powered and purchase that, and thankfully it isn’t too expensive. I also buy some more groceries (including some fruits and vegetables now that I know where I’m able to store them), some new underwear and socks, a couple of shirts, two towels, insect repellant and a small bottle of Tide - I figure maybe I can wash my clothes in a bucket with lake water or something. Taking my bag with me, I go to the bookstore in the same shopping center as the Walmart and buy a couple of books. I then go to the coffee shop inside and buy a coffee and a sandwich, plus use the access to a wall outlet and stay there for a while, until my phone’s battery gets back to 100%. Reading the directions on the box that the portable shower came in, it says that the bag the water is poured into needs to be exposed to sunlight for at least 3 hours before use. Which means, I’ll need to attempt this as soon as possible when I get back, as long as I have sunlight. 

It’s about 4:00pm when I arrive back at Redwood in my Uber. Xavier hadn’t told me any specific time to meet him, so I’m not sure about that as I carry my bags back up to my cabin. Immediately after putting everything down, I take the shower bag from the box and head down to the lake to fill it up. I set the bag up once it’s filled in a spot directly underneath the sun right outside my cabin when Montana sneaks up behind me. 

“Damn, what is that? It looks rad,” She asks me. 

“Portable shower for camping,” I say. “I’m not sure how it works. Apparently you have to keep it under the sunlight for a few hours to get hot water, then just hang it above a tree or something. I hadn’t heard of such a thing before, but I can’t say I’m surprised it exists.” 

“Still, that’s pretty badass,” she says to me. “Xavier told me to come find you when you got back, by the way. He wanted know if you’re still on for later?” She says out of curiosity. 

“Yeah, uh, he asked me to hang out, I guess?” I say with a shrug. 

She nods and her eyes widen a little. “Should I tell him about this shower thingy first?” She asks. 

“Yeah, I would definitely like to eat and then shower first,” I say, scratching my arm. It’s obvious my nervous habits are coming out in full force. 

“I’ll deliver the message,” Montana replies with a smile, and then walks away. 

Later in the evening, after eating a quick dinner, I thankfully find that the water in the bag is hot just as I check it at 8:30, a half an hour before sundown. Setting it up directly behind the cabin, I manage to finally shower (and it works well enough), and get dressed. My hair is still drying a little when there’s a knock at the cabin door. Xavier is standing outside and he’s... holding a gray blanket over his shoulder?

“What’s that thing for?” I say, giving my hair one last towel dry before I toss it over a chair in the corner and walk with him. 

“You’ll see,” he says, and he leads me down a pathway a little past the cabin. We talk a little bit - he asks me some things about my day, and I have to explain to him about how my phone needs it’s battery charged. He also seems fascinated by the concept of the the solar powered shower, and laughs when I tell him I barely understand it myself. The sun has gone down already and it’s a warm night, but I still have my hoodie on just in case, since we are in the woods, after all. 

After realizing about a half an hour has already passed, Xavier stops us and places the blanket on the ground below us, gesturing for us to sit. I do, but he immediately lies back down on it. I end up doing the same thing. 

Lying together on the blanket outside the infirmary, where we’ve ended up, the sleeves of my hoodie are pulled up slightly and I suddenly feel a brush of skin on my inner arms. I turn and see Xavier laying on his side, one of his arms holding up his head. With his opposite hand, he runs the tips of his fingers up and down my exposed forearm, slowly caressing them over the scar on my wrist. The scar that’s faded and goes almost halfway down, just a hair to the left of the vein. 

I turn on my opposite side and pull my arm away. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says. I can feel his fingers touching my shoulder now. “I was trying to, well, flirt I guess.” He laughs softly. “I won’t touch you anymore though, if you don’t want me to.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant,” I say, realizing he must have clearly misunderstood what I was doing. I turn back over and face him so we make eye contact, and push the stray strand of his blonde hair out of his eyes. “You’re more than welcome to touch me. I’m just... well... I’m kinda embarrassed, that’s all.”

“About what?” Xavier asks. 

I sigh. He still doesn’t get it. That’s okay that he doesn’t, but now I guess I should tell him. 

I pull up the sleeve on my hoodie and show him my wrist. 

“About that,” I say, pointing to the scar. His pale blue eyes widen a little. They widen even more when I hold up my other wrist with the bandage, and begin to slowly pull it off. His eyes are so wide now, they look as if they’re going to come right out of his head as he notices the dried blood on the white fabric. The bleeding on my wrist has stopped, but there’s a noticeable long gash and some more dried blood on the stitches. 

He reaches his hand up and slowly runs the tip of his finger along the healed scar. I think he finally gets it. 

“This is what you’re embarrassed about?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” I manage to squeak out, trying to hide the fact that I’ve begun to tear up. 

He shrugs, and picks my arm up. His eyes slowly flutter shut and he brings my wrist up to his lips, planting a soft kiss on my scar, and then on the backs of my knuckles before gently placing my hand on his chest, covering my palm with his own. I roll my eyes at him.

“You didn’t need to do that,” I say. I can’t help but run my fingers along the inside of his palm. My entire mind is thinking that he has some kind of ulterior motive. No man as beautiful as him could be interested in me. It’s just not possible. 

It’s Xavier’s turn to roll his eyes and he huffs. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Bree,” he says, laying back against the blanket but still holding my hand. “Maybe I read this all wrong, but I thought you were crushing on me.” 

“Well, I mean... you aren’t completely wrong there,” I say, trying to hide my embarrassment. “I might be... sort of, maybe...”

Xavier cuts me off, and I see his eyebrow raising. “So it’s mutual then?” He asks. 

I shrug. He basically just admitted that he also likes me, but I’m too confused to even process it.

He rolls his eyes again. “You could be a little more enthusiastic, you know,” he says, beginning to play with my fingers. ”But, I get it. I feel totally apathetic about everything myself. I do really like you, though, and I thought I was making it obvious.” 

He suddenly leans his face in a little closer, hovering his mouth close to mine. But he doesn’t do anything but gaze into my eyes. I’m trying to hide the fact that I can’t stop staring at his mouth, his perfect, plush lips. It’s not fair how fucking beautiful his whole face is - this man isn’t human, he had to have been carved out by the gods themselves. My brain is on overdrive, thinking about his face, his perfect cheekbones and his gorgeous blue eyes in front of me. Not to mention his perfectly coiffed blonde hair, that for someone who’s dead, looks better than my living hair has ever looked. 

I’m so mesmerized by his face and his eyes that I’m caught completely off guard when I suddenly feel his lips crashing against mine. Considering I can’t remember the last time I’ve kissed anyone, I barely have a chance to react. His eyes are closed and he’s sucking gently on my lower lip (or attempting to, considering I’m not doing anything back). He’s still holding my hand. His opposite hand, I feel it reaching up behind my neck and stroking the back of my hair. 

_This gorgeous specimen of a man is kissing me and just I’m laying there on my side, completely frozen stiff. Holy fuck. I just might be the world’s biggest idiot. I certainly feel like it right now._

He clearly picks up on my discomfort - his eyes shoot open and his hand on my neck drops. He slowly pulls his face away. Shit. I didn’t want him to do that, but to be fair, I wasn’t doing _anything_ on my end. 

Xavier is staring at me with a look of extreme confusion. I’m positive my face has turned every shade of red in existence - it’s probably fucking magenta at this point. 

“Well, I just made things really awkward, didn’t I?” I shyly ask, attempting to break the silence between us. 

Xavier lays back on his side, looking up at me with those damn eyes of his. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he speaks up. “We just both admitted that we have crushes on each other, so I thought that it would be okay to kiss you. Maybe I should have asked first?”

“No, you did absolutely nothing wrong! Trust me,” I say reassuringly to him, attempting some physical contact by reaching forward and touching his face. He thankfully reciprocates by placing his hand on mine. 

“I’m just - I’m really, really fucked up,” I say to him in a low voice, almost a whisper. 

He laughs. “You think I’m not?” He says. “I’m pretty sure every soul at this camp is fucked up, in some form or another. I don’t care about any of that.”

“I mean, it’s also been a really long time since I’ve kissed anyone,” I admit. I lower my hand off his face and brush my palm over his chest. He reaches his own hand up and pushes a strand of my hair out of my face, like I did to him earlier. “I was just caught off guard. I might have forgotten...”

Xavier cuts me off with a small giggle and hoists himself up on his shoulders. 

“You forgot how to kiss?” He asks, his lips shifting into a smile. “Come on, Bree. It’s like riding a bicycle. Just go with it.” 

I shrug once more. 

“You wanna try that again?” I ask, determined to get it right this time. 

“Duh,” he says, brushing his fingers up and down my shoulder. “But I mean, only if you want...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. Lunging my face forward, my lips press against his once more, and this time I actually make an attempt. I close my eyes, and feel his nose grazing against mine. His lips are soft - _really_ soft. Do ghosts use chapstick? Does being dead mean your lips just don’t get chapped anymore? These are the thoughts that are running through my head when I’m suddenly feeling his hands running down my sides and slipping themselves underneath my hoodie. His lips are slowly separating against mine and I know what’s coming - I can feel his tongue as he slides it inside my mouth, flicking it across my teeth. It’s a strangely tender kiss otherwise, and I can’t help but let out a small moan when he pulls away and heads straight for my neck, latching his lips to the skin and gently nibbles up towards my earlobe. 

He lays on his back and pulls me down so I’m hovering over him. He keeps his mouth on my neck. I feel a tiny pinch on some part of my skin, and I can’t tell at this point if it’s a mosquito or Xavier biting me. Brushing my hands against the back of his neck, I move one up and run my fingers through his hair, almost afraid to mess it up. He doesn’t seem to mind - he’s moved to the opposite side of my neck now, and his lips are migrating up my jaw and back to my mouth. He feels good. This feels good. I don’t know what I was so scared of. I mean, I do know... but Xavier doesn’t know. 

I shouldn’t be surprised, but still am, when I feel his large hands push themselves into my hoodie and he begins to paw them against my covered breasts. I’m not sure how far he wants to take this. I get an answer when I feel him trying to slip me out of my hoodie. I’m equally not sure how much I want to do with him either, if I’m being honest, but at the same time, I don’t want to stop...

I gently pull his hands away. He opens his eyes and faces me. 

“I’m sorry...” he starts to say, but I gently kiss him again to shut him up, pushing his chest gently so he stays on his back and I end up crawling on top of him. He seems surprised that I’m straddling him. 

“I’m making things easier for you, dumbass,” I say. He raises an eyebrow in curiosity, then smirks as he looks up at me and sees me reach under the back of my shirt. I gently unhook my bra and pull it off my body through my shirt, revealing my stomach to him but not much else, as I toss the white garment off to the side. 

“I’d take my entire shirt off, but I’m cold,” I say to him in an attempted flirtatious tone, taking both of his hands, sliding them under my shirt and up my torso. 

Xavier smirks again and leans up to reach my face. “Looks like I better keep you warm then,” he whispers against the shell of my ear. 

Letting out another moan, he attaches his lips to my neck again and I can feel his hands exploring under my shirt, flinching as his palm squeezes one of my breasts. I’m pushing myself against his chest, and my hips instinctively grind against his when I feel him tweaking one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand slowly massaging the opposite one. He’s still on his back and I’m still on top of him. His blue T-shirt is extremely tight and almost sheer - I can see his own nipples through them. I run my hands over them both, through the thin fabric of his shirt. My hips are vibrating against his. I’m wearing jeans so I can’t feel much, but I look down and see a hard indentation in his white shorts. I can’t help but reach down and stroke it softly with my fingertips, which causes him to moan now. 

I think I hear twigs snapping and men’s voices in the distance, and they sound like they’re getting closer. But I’m far too lost in Xavier’s mouth, the feel of his hands on my bare chest under my shirt, and trying to figure out what to do with my own hands. Is this what being an adult and making out feels like? I haven’t done this since college; I wouldn’t know. 

Leaning down and and clutching on to his back, I feel his fingers sliding down my stomach. He pulls away and presses his head against mine. 

“Touch me,” I whisper to him, and nod to my legs. 

He sits up, smirks again and clearly gets the hint. His soft lips caress themselves along various parts of my face as his fingers unbutton my jeans, and I hear him pulling the zipper down. I don’t even know how to react when I feel the tips of two of his fingers sliding themselves into my panties and working their way down my crotch...

  
  
“Oh, _goddammit,_ Xavier!” I suddenly hear a man’s voice above us. 

Xavier pulls his face away from mine and I look up to see Ray, Chet and one of the Mr. Jingles impersonators (the tall, skinny one with the dark hair - is this Larry or Keith? I can’t remember) standing over us. Ray looks mad, but Chet and the other guy are both rolling their eyes and laughing. 

“Hey, what the fuck?!” Xavier shouts. I roll off him and zip my pants back up. Xavier’s hands are back at his sides. 

_Jesus, where did I put my bra?!_

“You do know there are private cabins here, right?” Skinny Jingles impersonator says to us, chuckling loudly. “You don’t need to be fooling around in the middle of the woods, although we were enjoying the show...”

“Oh shut it, Larry!” Xavier says, getting up on his feet. **(Thanks for the confirmation of which one that was, buddy.)**

“I hear the boathouse is nice this time of night,” Chet says. Xavier rolls his eyes and flips his middle finger at his friend. 

**(Meanwhile, I’m still looking for my bra. Is it under the blanket that Xavier is standing on? Did you see where I threw it? I don’t want a bunch of guys - ones that aren’t named Xavier, at least - to see it, I’m embarrassed enough already. Fuck, where is this thing?!)**

“No, Xavier wouldn’t take her to the boathouse,” Larry chimes in. “I think that’s where him and Bertie used to get it on.” 

Xavier flashes Larry the dirtiest look I’ve ever seen, in the short time I’ve known him. I’m barely paying attention anyway, considering I’m looking to see if maybe my bra ended up in a bush or under a tree. 

He doesn’t say anything. He looks pissed - extremely so. Chet and Larry high five each other, until Ray steps between them. 

“Okay, that’s enough, both of you!” He says firmly. 

Xavier walks up to Larry, and stands right in his face. 

“I’ll take shit from Chet because I’ve known him for years,” he says, the tone of his voice lowering and sounding angry. “But you,” he continues, shoving his finger into Larry’s chest. “You don’t get to say a goddamn word to me, understood?!”

Larry takes a step back and holds his hands up. 

“Whoa, take it easy, man,” he says. “I’m just messing with you! I thought we were cool.” 

“Hey, there’s no need to get hostile, X,” Chet says, holding his hand up to Xavier. “Look, everyone just calm down. We’re only screwing with you. We were just walking down to the dock, and didn’t expect to see anyone here. That’s all. No big deal, no harm done. We cool?”

Chet holds his hand out and makes a fist. Xavier sighs, and fist bumps him back. 

“We were actually going for a night swim,” Ray turns and says to me. “You guys are welcome to join us.” 

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit with me,” I say. My eyes are scanning the ground - the bra is still missing in action. 

“Oh, we don’t use bathing suits,” Larry says, stepping forward. “Only our birthday suits.” 

He laughs, and goes to fist bump Ray and Chet, but neither of them reciprocate. They’re giving him dirty looks now. Larry just looks confused. 

I can feel my face turning red. 

“I don’t think Bree is into that,” Xavier says on my behalf. This man clearly can read me like a book. He turns to me. “I can go up to Montana and Trevor’s cabin and see if she has a suit you can borrow.” 

“Thanks,” I say to him. I look over at the other guys, who aren’t saying anything. 

It’s Ray who finally breaks the awkward silence in the air. 

“Well, we’re gonna head down there now,” he says, and I watch as Larry and Chet start walking towards the lake. He turns to us both. “You’re both still welcome to join us, if Montana has a suit for you, Bree.”

“I might just head in for the night soon,” I say. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll ask her and I’ll be more prepared next time.”

Ray fist bumps Xavier and then waves to me as he follows Chet and Larry. 

When all three of the other guys are completely out of sight, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn and look at Xavier, who’s smirking again, as he holds up my missing bra. 

“Looking for this, I assume?” He asks me. I roll my eyes at him and snatch it out of his hand. He’s laughing quietly until I punch him on the shoulder. 

“Ow! What was that for?” He says, rubbing his arm. 

“You asshole! Where was it?” I ask him. I’m wondering if I should even bother putting it back on, but that might require getting my shirt off in front of him - and I’m not ready for that yet. 

“Well, I may have grabbed it when the guys showed up and shoved it into my pants behind my shirt,” Xavier says with a laugh. I can’t be too mad at him, and he actually did do me a favor. I playfully push him in the chest and he pulls me into him so my body is against his. 

“That’s more like it,” he says, rubbing my arms again. “Geez, you really did a number on my shoulder.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think ghosts could feel pain,” I say, looking up at him. I’m being serious - I really didn’t. 

“Oh, we definitely can,” he replies. “We feel it all if someone kills us all over again. And then we resurrect in seconds as if nothing happened. It’s a fun time. By fun, I mean not really.” He leans down and pecks me on the lips lightly. “Anyway, I’m sorry my asshole excuse for friends interrupted us so rudely. It’s your call with what you want to do now.” 

“I think I might really want to call it a night,” I say to him. Seeing his look of disappointment, I realize it’s important to let him know it’s nothing personal. “It’s not you. I really enjoyed being with you. Just kind of embarrassed after all that, you know?”

He leans down and kisses me again, gently and slightly deeper, but not by much. “I totally get it,” he whispers. “Come on, babe. I’ll walk you back to your cabin.”

“Oh, really, you don’t have to,” I say, putting my hoodie back on and stuffing my bra into one of the pockets, but he’s already got his arm around my shoulder and my waist and he’s leading me back up towards the girls’ cabin that I slept in last night and put my stuff in. 

“Did you stay in there alone last night?” He asks me as we walk up the path, approaching the cabin and passing the wooden marker signs. 

“I did,” I said. “I didn’t mind it so much. I think I assumed there would be others though?”

“We generally all kind of crash wherever, though I’m usually up in that boys’ cabin with Chet, Ray, Pete, Keith and Larry. Montana and Trevor called dibs years ago on that super nice cabin that used to be Margaret’s, and then it was the VIP lodging for the Redwood music festival. Those old timers from the 70’s claimed one of the other cabins, and Bertie tends to stick to the mess hall. Courtney kind of goes wherever he feels like staying for the night, that dude is super flighty. He’s ended up with us a few times, although a few mornings he’s been found in odd places, like on the prep table in the mess hall kitchen and next to the fireplace in there. I’m not really sure about everyone else.”

“What about Jingles?” I ask out of curiosity. We’re approaching the cabin - I almost don’t want to say goodnight to him, but I know I have to. Xavier’s hand on my waist feels warm, almost sweaty. Do ghosts sweat?

He shrugs. “Nobody has seen him in years,” he says. “That’s who Bobby Richter came looking for the other night. Montana had to break the news to him, not only that he’s dead, but that none of us even have a clue where he is. I sort of feel bad for Jingles, even after what he did to me. But it’s still our job to keep Bobby safe by making sure Ramirez doesn’t leave the campgrounds. I just really, really hope he doesn’t come back here.” 

“It’s really admirable that you all are so dedicated to protecting Bobby,” I say to him as we finally approach my cabin. He walks with me up the stairs and stands with me outside the door. I don’t acknowledge Xavier’s remark about Jingles and “what he did to me” - I get the hint that he doesn’t want to talk about that right now. I don’t want to ruin the mood either. 

“It’s the least we could do for him, really,” Xavier says, still running his hands down my arms. “So. I guess this where I leave you for now,” he continues.

“The awkward goodnight part, I guess,” I say, which elicits a laugh from him. 

“I don’t think it’s awkward,” he responds. “All things considered, I had a great time with you. I’d like to hang out with you again tomorrow, if that’s okay with you.” 

“I’d really like that,” I say. 

“Come find me whenever you want,” he says. “I meant what I said before, by the way. I really do like you, Bree. I enjoy spending time with you. We can take things as slow as you need. I’m totally cool with that.” 

“Thank you, Xavier,” I say, and he wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. When he releases me, he kisses me again. This time, it’s long and slow. When he finally pulls away, he opens the cabin door and allows me to step inside. Before I do, he pulls me back into him and kisses me once more. 

When he finishes, I turn away from him and walk into the cabin, turning back to look at him. He’s disappeared completely now, and it’s probably for the best. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the album “Nervous Like Me” from the indie/punk band Cayetana.


	4. Need You Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bree and Xavier spend the day together and after getting some advice from both Bertie and Montana, she takes a big personal risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POSSIBLE TW/CW: mentions of past rape/sexual assault and talk of self-harm in this chapter 
> 
> Surprise, this chapter didn’t take me a month to publish! I got a wind of inspiration and banged this out within the last week.
> 
> We’re moving into more smut territory and also lots and lots of angst in this chapter, so enjoy the ride!

  
**Day Three At Redwood**

  
Sleeping is hard for me that night. I spend most of the night restless, thinking about how awkward I was earlier that evening. Maybe in another lifetime, another version of me would have been brave enough to invite Xavier back into my cabin so we could continue, uninterrupted. Every time I close my eyes, his mouth and his hands all over me is all I see and feel. 

Fuck. Why am I so stupid and weird? Why didn’t I just kiss him back like a normal person? Even though it got better, my anxiety is on overdrive thinking about everything that went wrong at first. If I was brave enough, I’d go find him now and bring him back here. I want him here. I keep thinking about his fingers massaging my tits under my shirt, wondering about how his soft lips would feel on them. Thinking about how it would feel if he had actually gotten to use his fingers inside me before Ray, Chet and Larry got there. I’m trying really hard to sleep and eventually, I can’t help but start to touch myself a little. But I stop. I’m not quite sure why I don’t allow myself to have this. Maybe I do know. Thinking about all of this is driving my anxiety up the block and around the corner. Maybe I need to discuss some of this with him if anything happens when I see him again. 

My eyes eventually close and of course, I dream about him. I fucking dream about him... and I dream about fucking him. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this. It did. In this dream, his large hands are running over me everywhere as I’m riding him. I dream of him bending me over. I dream of his cock around my lips, and then his own lips around my clit. Jesus. After this dream I have, I’m somewhat shocked when I wake up drenched in sweat only but somehow my vagina is completely dry. That doesn’t last long and as I keep thinking about it, I’m full of tingles throughout my body and a throbbing feeling below my stomach. This isn’t like me at all. The morning sunrise begins to reflect through the window of the cabin and I keep seeing flashes of him underneath me. I can imagine feeling him, hard and deep inside me, even though it was just a dream. Eventually, I can’t take it anymore and slowly find myself slipping my hand between my thighs as I keep picturing his beautiful face in front of me.

I’m able to bring myself to a surprisingly soft and quick, but intense climax, and manage to fall asleep shortly after. When I wake up, it’s almost 11am, which means I slept in again. Maybe I should have masturbated sooner - I always forget that it can be helpful for falling asleep, and fuck knows I’m always so anxious at night. 

Realizing it’s going to take an effort to shower again, I slowly drag myself out of bed and throw some clothes on haphazardly before carrying the portable shower bag down to the lake to fill it up. Bringing it back up to my cabin, I place it in another spot under direct sunlight. I’m gonna have to start making an attempt to wake up earlier so I can shower; this waiting three hours for the water to get hot shit is already getting old. 

I take my morning medication and head down towards the mess hall, where I grab a box of oatmeal and notice that Bertie has left another bucket of water for me to filter and heat up on the campfire outside. Going out there and beginning to boil the water on the fire, I’m lost in the process when I barely notice that Montana has crept up behind me again. 

“You look cheerful!” She says to me, sounding equally cheery as she sits next to me. 

“I guess so,” I say, grabbing the pot off the fire and pouring it into my bowl. “Hey, Montana, question. Do you by any chance happen to have a bathing suit I can borrow?” 

“Oh, I have a couple of different ones!” She exclaims. “Absolutely. Just pop on by me and Trevor’s whenever you want it.” Her face suddenly shifts into a smirk. “So, I heard you and Xavier had a fun time on your date last night.”

Oh, God. I guess this is gonna be a thing now. I don’t know how to respond to her and I’m definitely blushing. 

“Hey, relax, I’m just teasing,” she says. “But, I should just warn you now. Don’t be surprised - everyone already knows that Chet, Ray and Larry found you guys making out in the woods. Gossip spreads here like wildfire and everyone’s always in each other’s business. It’s not really our fault; we don’t have much else to do.” 

**(I have to admit - she does have a point.)**

“I’m still a little embarrassed,” I say to her, poking around at my oatmeal. 

“Listen, don’t be”, she says, putting her hand on my arm. “I’m gonna be honest - we’ve all been so bored up here. There isn’t a whole lot for us to do, as I said, besides watch Ramirez. Most of the ghosts have all fucked each other in some capacity by now. Finding you guys out there isn’t anything new. Happens all the time with of us. That’s why Chet and Larry ribbed Xavier over it.”

A sudden wave of insecurity overtakes me as I remember what Larry had said. 

“Uh, Larry, he said something to Xavier about Bertie...” I start to say, very quietly. 

Montana cuts me off. “Yup. That happened. But, I also want to be honest with you, which is why I came over here. Xavier and I - I mean, I’ve slept with him, too.”

My eyes widen now, but she finishes. 

“I should clarify that though,” she adds, looking at the ground for a second. “We actually dated when we were alive in the early 80’s. It wasn’t long - just a couple of months really. We stayed friends after that. Then after we died, we got back together and were off and on for a while up here, but even that wasn’t anything super serious. It was mostly out of boredom and familiarity. Comfort out of our previous relationship. Truthfully, I always loved Trevor, but it wasn’t until he came back up here with Margaret and I saw him again did I realize that. We had a connection from the moment he and I met the very first night. That first time we were together was fucking magical. I went for a dip in the lake at night, without clothes obviously. Trevor got naked too and joined me, and he went down on me when we were under water. I never knew a man could be that talented - God, his mouth is just as _amazing_ as his massive dick...”

Biting onto my oatmeal spoon, I briefly tune her out as I remember Bobby telling me that Trevor had had an “enormous... personality” and definitely paused in between words. Clearly he had been saying something else and chose not to. Well. I definitely won’t be able to look at Trevor the same way again. 

Montana must sense my awkwardness, as she stops gushing about Trevor and comes back to the original subject. “Anyway,” she says, “I just wanted to tell you that Xavier and I used to date, but trust me, that’s ancient history. I love Trevor and he and I have been going strong for thirty years now. Xavier understood that and we were always good enough friends that he was able to allow me that freedom to move on. So, you don’t have to feel threatened by that in any way.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” I say to her, poking my spoon around in my bowl. “But, really, all we did was make out and mess around a little. It was barely anything. I doubt he wants anything serious. I mean, I don’t know if he even really likes me.” 

Montana turns her head and looks me square in the eye. “Look, I know him better than most people,” she replies. “I see the way he’s been looking at you. The way he hangs on to your every word. He doesn’t do that with many people, women especially. He likes you. I truly believe he’s genuine if he says that. He’s had his womanizing moments in the past, but I can spot his real interest a mile away. You shouldn’t doubt yourself either, Bree. You’re a pretty girl, and he doesn’t waste his time with people he’s not interested in even somewhat. Just give him a chance.”

“Thank you,” I say to her, finishing up my oatmeal and trying to accept her compliments. “I just have all these insecurities, and fuck, Xavier is gorgeous. I’m just shocked he’s interested in me in any form...”

“Like I said, don’t doubt yourself,” Montana responds, putting her hand on my shoulder for a second as she stands up. “And don’t worry about being insecure either. He’s a good looking guy for sure, but he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer either at times. He also has a history of trauma. Overall though, he tries to be a good person, and he’s succeeded in doing that. Also, we never talked about this.” Her voices lowers and she nods her head. I don’t know what she’s getting at, but quickly do when I turn and see Xavier walking towards us. 

“What are you two up to?” He asked as he approaches us. 

“Talking about what a dickhead you are, what else?” Montana says, her voice picking up. 

Xavier rolls his eyes. “Very funny,” he deadpans. 

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone,” Montana suddenly says as she starts to walk away, which causes Xavier to roll his eyes again as he hovers over me. 

“Sorry about that,” he says, walking over and looking down. “Did you sleep okay? I kept wondering when you were gonna wake up.”

I shoot him a grin. “Didn’t you leave me last night by saying I should come find you?” I ask, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. 

He shrugs and reaches his hand down, placing it on my cheek. “I was eager to see you again, what can I say?” He says, brushing his fingers along my head. “How about we take another walk, in the daylight this time?” 

“Will you at least allow me time to head back and brush my teeth?” I ask, suddenly thinking to myself about my dream as I feel his skin caressing my face. I’m feeling extremely self conscious now - I need to get rid any morning breath as soon as possible. 

He pulls me up off the bench and smirks. “Well, that’s a bummer,” he says, as I put the bowl down and start heading back to my cabin. 

“What is?” I ask, turning my head to him. 

“That you’re making me wait a little longer before I can kiss you again,” he calls out to me. 

**(Fuck. He’s better at this than I am. I’m blushing hard, but at least it’s good to know we’re on the same page.)**

Back at my cabin, using some of the water from my water bottle, I can’t brush my teeth fast enough. When I go to open the door, Xavier is already standing on the porch. 

“You got here quick,” I say to him. 

“I’m a ghost, remember?” He says with a small grin. “Disappearing and reappearing in an instant is one of the perks.”

He slips his arm around my waist and begins to lead me away from the cabin. 

“You’re okay with this?” I ask him, placing my fingers on top of his as they rest on my hip. 

“Relax, Bree. Besides, not like everyone doesn’t already know that we got caught in the woods last night,” he replies. 

“Montana did tell me that everyone up here is always in everyone else’s shit,” I say to him. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“She’s right about that,” he says, turning me through a small pathway that I don’t remember going down a couple of days ago on the tour. “Bunch of nosy assholes they all are. I got an earful from pretty much all the guys already, so I figure, what the fuck does it matter? Let’s just do whatever. Oh, and this is where we’re going.”

He points up to one of the wooden marker signs that says ARCHERY RANGE. 

“I don’t think I’ve done this since I was a kid at camp myself,” I say to him. 

“I played Robin Hood at a dinner theater in Tustin in 1979,” he says as we walk through the woods and approach the archery targets. “They made me take lessons for the role. That was one of the reasons I took the counselor job up here in the first place - figured I could teach kids how to shoot, you know? It came in handy that first night, but unfortunately not for long.” 

He gets quiet for a minute and I choose not to ask what he means by this. 

“So I come here sometimes and shoot some arrows when I’m bored or tense,” he continues as we reach the range. He takes his arm off me and reaches down into the bucket with bows and arrows that’s propped up on the side. “It’s a good spot for some quiet time, since nobody really comes up here,” he says as he picks up an arrow and shoots it into the large target, immediately hitting the bullseye. 

“Impressive,” I say to him. 

“Thanks,” he says. “It’s also a good spot for us to be alone. Without interruption.” He winks at me and I feel like my legs are about to give out, but manage to keep my balance. “You want to try?” He then asks me. 

“I’d rather just watch you,” I say. 

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs, picking up another arrow and fires it off. This one hits the red circles right past the yellow in the bullseye. 

“So what other acting gigs did you have besides Robin Hood?” I ask him as I watch him shooting off arrows. He had told me a little bit about how he was only teaching aerobics as a way to earn income while he was trying to get acting jobs, but not a whole lot. 

“Not many, unfortunately,” he says as he approaches the target and begins to pull some of the arrows out of them. “Some other local theater. I had two call back auditions for _The A-Team_ that I never got to go to. I also had one for a two episode arc in a TV pilot as a cheery bellhop. Both of them were scheduled for after the end of the summer in ‘84 when we all came up here, but again, obviously that one didn’t pan out either. The day I met Montana, actually, she rear ended my van when I was on my way to an audition for one of the last episodes of _M*A*S*H_. Of course I missed it. I’ve never let her live that one down.” 

“She told me you guys dated for a little bit,” I said, just putting it out there. “That’s an interesting way to have met.” 

He seems somewhat embarrassed now. “Well, I _may_ have asked for her phone number when we were done yelling at each other about the accident,” he says. 

“Smooth,” I say to him with a grin. 

“Oh, stop. Initially it was just to share insurance information.” He walks over to me and smiles, before shooting another arrow into a target. 

“Yeah. Right,” I say to him as I watch him shooting a few more. 

“Don’t worry about that, by the way,” he says. “She and Trevor have been steady for years now. Whatever was between us is long gone.” 

“I believe you. She told me the same thing,” I say, walking up next to him as he shoots. I’m slightly caught off guard again when he leans in and kisses my cheek just before shooting another arrow. 

“You sure you don’t want a turn?” He asks me. “I can show you how.” 

_Eh, why not. Maybe this a good excuse for him to touch me again, because clearly I have a one track mind._

Holding my hand out, he gives me the bow and arrow. I take a step forward and shoot, only to have it just barely reach the target and it hits the ground. 

“Sorry. I suck at this,” I say. 

Xavier smirks at me as I pick up another arrow, and I suddenly feel him behind me, moving my hips so my body is turned slightly. 

“Stand like this,” he says. “Keep your feet apart just a little.” 

I do as I’m told. He shows me where to place the arrow on the bow, and how to hold the string between my fingers. 

“Now, use your middle and index fingers to curl and pull back on the string of the bow,” he says, holding my arms up and guiding me as I stretch it out. “Remember - curl your fingers. That’s very important.”

My mind starts getting a different image when he starts talking about curling your fingers, but I put it out of my head immediately. I refuse to allow myself to get horny while I’m holding a weapon in my hands. 

Xavier finishes showing me and I stand there, holding the arrow, stretch the bow out and release it. The arrow actually reaches the target this time - it hits somewhere towards the top, but it doesn’t bounce off and actually sticks. 

“Not bad Bree, not bad,” he responds, giving me a slow clap. 

“I’m nowhere near as good as you are,” I say to him, holding the bow down. 

“It’s not a big deal. You’ll get the hang of it the more you do it,” he says. 

I practice by shooting twice more, both times hitting the target but still nowhere near the bullseye. Xavier comes up and stands right behind me, and I get a little nervous when I feel him wrap his hands around my waist from behind. 

Out of nowhere, I drop the bow to the ground and just speak. 

“I had a dream about you last night!”

It just blurts out. I wasn’t looking to do that. Not completely, anyway. 

I hear him giggling a little as he’s still behind me. 

“Oh, really?” He says into my ear in a low voice. “Should I ask what it was about?” 

“I mean, I’m kind of embarrassed...” I start to say. I don’t get to finish - he turns me around and I’m once again caught off guard by him kissing me. Wrapping my arms up around his neck, I slowly give in to it as I’m melting into the feeling of his soft lips once again. 

When he pulls away from me, he leans down and speaks again. 

“So, this dream of yours, I hope there was more of that,” he says in practically a whisper. 

“Well, yeah. There was lots of kissing,” I say to him. “And, uh... other things...”

He smirks and one of his eyebrows raises. “I didn’t dream about you, but I do have to admit, I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I tried to sleep,” he says to me. “And I’ve wanted to kiss you since I brought it up this morning by the campfire.” 

“Well, you should have. And that cheek smooch from before didn’t count,” I say to him playfully as he rubs my arms. 

“Hey, to be fair, we agreed last night that we were gonna take things slow,” he says. “So that’s what I’m doing.”

**(Shit, he’s right. We did agree and I completely forgot. The dream must have really thrown me for a loop.)**

“Well, we don’t... have to take things _that_ slowly,” I say to him, to which his head perks up. “As long as we’re completely alone out here, I, uh... wouldn’t mind picking up where we left off last night. If that’s okay with you.”

“Listen, I’m fine with whatever - “ he starts to speak, but I don’t let him finish. I pull him into me and kiss him roughly, frantically grabbing at different parts of his upper body. 

Xavier takes the cue and goes along with it. Within seconds, he’s got me pushed up against a tree and is kissing me furiously as his hands grab at my chest. I can barely concentrate on anything around me except him. One of his hands finds itself underneath my shirt again and his fingers slip themselves inside the cups of my bra; meanwhile, he’s moved to nibbling on my neck and his opposite hand is holding me steady against the bark by my hip. I lift one of my legs up and manage to get his thigh shoved between my legs, which he rubs furiously against my covered crotch. Even through the fabric of my jeans, there’s intense friction there. _Holy fuck._

I hear him panting heavily into my ear as he sucks on my neck, and a moan leaves my mouth when he pinches my nipple between his fingers. I clutch my fingers into his back and keep him pulled into me. The bark of the tree scratches my own back as I impulsively unzip his pants and slip my hand inside. Xavier’s head tilts back slightly, his mouth opens and he moans softly now, which get a little louder as I migrate my own fingers down his crotch and finally touch him. He’s already hard when I grip his length in my hand and gasp - it’s been a long time since I’ve willingly touched a man’s dick that I had forgotten what it felt like. I’m surprised when I remember as well to tug on his balls, but that’s all I’m able to do. When I wrap my hand around his cock again, my wrist hurts a little when I try to stroke him, and then I realize that my hand is squeezed hard between both of his legs as he vibrates his thigh between my own. 

He must pick up on the discomfort of my hand because he stops what he’s doing, and even pulls out from under my shirt. 

“Shit. I’m sorry,” he says. “I think I got a little carried away. You seem like you’re uncomfortable.” 

“Just my hand hurts from the position,” I say to him, shaking it. “It was fine otherwise.”

He smiles at me and zips himself back up as I pull my shirt back down. 

“I think it’ll be best if maybe we continued this in a more comfortable area, for both of us,” he says, leaning forward and kissing me on the forehead. “Like one of our cabins. Clearly we’re not having much luck whenever we fool around in the woods.” 

I giggle as he moves his body away from me, but only slightly. He gazes down at me and kisses me again, softer this time, keeping his hands slightly under my shirt and resting on my hips. I notice that he keeps his hands there and doesn’t move them. Seems like he’s trying to keep his restraint. This restraint doesn’t last long, as one of his hands creeps down from my hips and lands on my ass against the tree. I don’t stop him. 

He eventually pulls away from me and walks back over to the targets, and I’m nearly out of breath. I almost grab him to kiss him again, when a thought pops into my head. 

“I hate to cut this short,” I say, “But I need to call home and check in. They... don’t actually know I’m here and they worry...” 

I don’t know how to explain to Xavier that my family keeps an eye on me lately because they’re worried I might have another self harm relapse, so I just don’t finish the rest of that sentence. 

“That’s more than okay,” he says. “You said your phone got service down by the camp gates?” 

I nod. 

“I’ll walk you down there then, if you don’t mind.” 

I nod again. Xavier smiles and unexpectedly takes my hand in his as we start walking along the path towards the camp entrance. My palm feels very sweaty inside his and I realize my whole body is sweaty. I’ll need to see if the water is hot for a shower when we get back. 

He doesn’t say anything as we’re walking, and looking to break the silence somehow, I say the first awkward thing I can think of. 

“It’s really hot out.” 

I’m the worst. It really is hot, but I can’t tell if it’s because we’re in the middle of the day in the summer, or because things had gotten pretty intense with us back up by the archery range. 

“How come you don’t wear shorts?” He asks me. “I’m dead and I still feel this fucking heat out.” 

**(Fuck. Now I don’t know how to respond to him, so I just don’t.)**

He must pick up on the hint, because he doesn’t follow up the question and just keeps walking with me until we reach the gates. When we get there, he lets me go and as I leave to make my call, I’ve noticed he’s disappeared. After I finish, he randomly appears again once I’m back inside and walks me back up towards camp, keeping his hand in mine. 

When we end up back at the camp, I go to take a shower and find him again as soon as I’m done. It’s already about 4pm and I’m not quite hungry yet, but he accompanies me to to the mess hall anyway. We find Bertie up there and she tells me about the stash of board games that’s hidden on a shelf next to the fireplace at the end of the hall. I rummage through the games and find an old Scrabble board, and set up a game with her and Xavier. Not long after, Ray, Trevor and Montana come into the hall and join the game with us. It lasts for a good hour or so and Trevor ends up winning. The entire time, Xavier isn’t shy about letting everyone else know there’s something going on between us, resting his hand on my knee and sliding his arm around me at any chance he got. I could see Montana smiling a little to herself whenever he did something and I try to not feel embarrassed. This little community was small and tight knit; it really just made sense that everyone knew everything that went on. I’m gonna have to get over this as long as I’m staying up here.   
  


* * *

“So once you peel off the second layer of skin, hold it down on the board skin side up. You make about two horizontal cuts, but don’t go all the way to the root. Then, you make a few vertical cuts like this in the opposite direction...”

It’s about two hours after our Scrabble game and Xavier’s gone off for Ramirez watch at the Spooky Shack with Trevor and Montana. I was hungry and figure that since I bought some produce the day before, I decide to try and make an actual meal for myself instead of the ramen and boxed macaroni and cheese I’ve sustained on for the last couple of nights. Choosing to make some veggies with beans and rice, Bertie had offered me some lessons in chopping and cooking. Between Xavier’s archery lesson this afternoon and now that I’m learning some knife skills, I feel like I’m actually at a functioning summer camp, and not on a temporary (but who knows for sure how long) vacation from the real world at an abandoned camp with a bunch of dead people. 

Holding the onion down on the cutting board, I do as she’s instructing me and try my best to not cut myself. 

“Good job,” she says to me, as I begin slicing downward. “You just mastered both the slice and dice. I think we’re ready to cook up these babies now. Let’s go outside.”

Bertie walks with me out to the campfire and pours some oil into a pan on top of the cooking rack as I toss the all vegetables inside the pan. She watches me as I stand over the fire and toss them with a spatula she’s given me. 

“This is the easiest process and you can make any meal out of just beans and rice,” Bertie says as I push everything around inside the pan. “You’re lucky that you’re vegetarian. Cooking meat is a lot harder, and I don’t know how you would go about storing any up here. Just make sure you use up the produce as quickly as possible while you’re here, so it doesn’t go bad.”

“Thanks for your help, Bertie,” I say to her. 

“Don’t even worry about it, hun,” she says. “Helping you out has given me more to do in years, other than when I’m on duty up at the shack. Although, if you’re offering, I might ask you to grab me a pack of cigarettes next time you head into town.” 

I giggle to myself as I pick up the salt and pepper shakers I took outside and season the vegetables in the pan. 

“So can I just say, that you and Xavier are really cute together,” Bertie suddenly speaks up. 

Jesus. Everyone at this camp really _is_ super nosy. I don’t know how to answer her. 

“Listen, I’m sure someone told you by now about what happened between us,” she says to me as I continue to stir the veggies in the pan. 

“Not really,” I answer her, telling a half truth. “I mean, I don’t know the whole story...”

Bertie shrugs. “There isn’t much to tell, really. It only happened once and it was just to break some strange tension we’ve had since we first met. It wasn’t anything even remotely serious, not for me at least. And let me tell you, Bree, the way that boy was looking at you this afternoon, he never looked at me or Montana or anyone else like that.” 

What she tells me is reassuring, but I still don’t know how else to respond to her. 

“I can tell you like him, but for whatever the reason, I’m sensing a lot of apprehension on your end,” she says out of nowhere. “I don’t want to overstep my boundaries here, but if you need to talk about anything, I’m glad to lend an ear for ya.” 

The vegetables in the pan have started getting some color on them now, and she then tells me they look like they’re almost done before the conversation continues. 

“Thanks, Bertie,” I say to her, putting the final touches on my food as I get ready to plate it. “I think - I mean, I do like him. And I really do want to do more with him, but it’s not easy. I have a lot of issues there.” 

“Well, look,” she says. “I can only tell you to listen to what your heart says and all that junk. Do what you feel is most comfortable for you. At the end of the day, just talk to him and see what you both want. That’s the only advice I can really give.” 

I take a deep breath and take the pan off the campfire as Bertie throws a bucket of water on it to put it out. 

“I - I want him,” I say quietly. “I really do.” 

Bertie smiles at me. “Then go do something about that,” she says. 

A short while later, while I’m in the mess hall eating my fully prepared meal (that thanks to Bertie’s help, came out delicious), I find some old stationary and a pen in a drawer in the kitchen and scribble a note for him.   
  
  


* * *

  
_Xavier -_

_Come up to the cabin where I’m staying. Wouldn’t mind some company tonight. Don’t worry about taking things slow. Up to you, of course. Maybe I’ll see you later?_

_⁃ Bree_

  
I leave Bertie at the mess hall and slowly wander up to the cabin where Xavier told  
me that he has been bunking at. Looking around to see if nobody else will see me, I slip the note under the crack in the front door, before making my way down the steps. I hear them all off in the distance, probably heading back, or hanging out by the campfire. 

Heading to my own cabin, I see Eddie, Helen and Midge wandering off to the Spooky Shack to replace Montana and Trevor for their shift to watch Ramirez for the night. I think to myself, the 70’s counselors will probably have another threesome while waiting for Ramirez to wake up before they kill him. I then see Trevor and Montana out of the corner of my eye leaving the shack, walking arm and arm back to their own lodging and looking at each other lovingly. They’re probably gonna have sex too, maybe for the fourth or fifth time today. Xavier isn’t with them, so I assume he’s gone back already. I just impulsively invited him back to my cabin, so my assumption is that perhaps tonight, I’m also going to get laid. But I have to wonder if I’m even ready to, considering how long it’s been since I’ve willingly done so. 

**(Yeah... we won’t talk about that right now, if that’s okay with you. Another thing on my list of problems that’s seemingly never-ending at this point. It’s also a strange dichotomy to both want to have sex with someone and being afraid of it at the same time, not for the standard “first time with someone” nervousness, but for the sheer fact that the last couple of times I’ve had it were many years ago and both were forced on me by the same person. I’m already going mad inside my head whether I want to tell Xavier any of this or not.)**

Clutching the flashlight that he gave me and shining it up ahead as I walk towards the cabin, I think about how nervous I was just kissing him for the first time the day before. I somehow loosened up enough this afternoon to touch him, and it was getting hot and heavy before my hand cramped up. _Do I even really want this? Why am I so fucking scared?_ I mostly just want him... there, with me. To feel a warm body next to mine. I’ll play it by ear. There’s no other way to play it. I just hope he understands. 

Pushing open the cabin door, I flip off the flashlight and place it on on top of one of the dressers before maneuvering over in the dark to the single twin bed I’ve claimed as my own. Digging through my bag and retrieving a pair of boxer shorts, I pull my hoodie and jeans off, and my shoes, slipping into the boxer shorts and leaving everything else on. I could take my bra off, but he seemed to like the way I slyly removed it last night. So I leave it on. Maybe I’ll let him take it off this time. If he even comes.

I lay down on the bed and stare up at the ceiling, pulling the blanket up to my neck. My eyes slowly flutter shut. I’m not sure how much time has passed when I awake, hearing the cabin door open with a creak and another flashlight shining in my face pries my eyes open. I see the glimmer of Xavier’s blonde tips reflecting in the light, and his shadow against the wall. 

He looks down at me and smiles as he slips off his purple jacket, hanging it on the hook next to the door. Slowly approaching, he sits on the chair next to the bed, where he lifts his leg up and begins to remove each of his white sneakers, shoving them both under the bunk bed across from me. 

“I wasn’t sure you were coming,” I say, turning to face him. He’s standing there in a tight, blue and yellow striped T-shirt and those same white pants from earlier, just staring down at me. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks. He doesn’t say anything else. I think he’s waiting for me to give him the green light.

“Soooo...” I say, throwing the blanket off me and moving to the opposite side of the bed, towards the wall, to make room. “Are you getting into bed with me, or what?”

He grins at me. “I thought you’d never ask,” he says, and lowers himself down so he’s facing me, covering himself with the blanket and wrapping his arms around my torso underneath. He leans forward and kisses my lips very gently - almost as if he’s dipping his toes in first before diving in completely. 

I hoist myself up over him and kiss him back, rougher this time. He gets the hint - his mouth consumes mine, and we lie there just kissing, hard and deep for a few minutes before he makes a move and reaches his hands up the back of my shirt, brushing them up and down the small of my back. I can feel his fingers navigating upwards, hovering over the clasp of my bra, and he clearly doesn’t know what to do.

I latch my own mouth onto his neck and whisper to him. “It’s okay,” I say. “You can take it off.” 

He shoots me a smirk when I make eye contact with him. “Do I also get to see as well this time?” He asks, almost shyly. 

_Well, he’s going straight for it. I might as well, too. What do I have to lose?_

Slowly, I pull myself up so I’m hovering over him slightly and lift my shirt over my head, tossing it behind me. Xavier reaches his hands up my back and I nod to him, taking a deep breath as I feel him unhooking the clasp of my bra. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks, looking to move the straps down and pull it off my body. I hold it against me as it hangs, once the clasps are unclipped.

“It’s fine,” I say, knowing things aren’t quite fine. “It’s just - I, well... it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten naked in front of anyone. I hate my body.” 

He leans forward and simply places a soft kiss on my forehead. Goddamn him. 

_Just rip it off. Like a band-aid.  
Come on Briana, you can do this. It’s just my upper half. There’s no scars up here, except for my wrists, and he’s fine with those. We’ll cross that other bridge if we come to it. _

“Just the top half, for now?” I say to him, not allowing him to speak. “Is that cool?” 

Xavier smiles and nods, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I allow him to finally pull my bra completely off. I can’t tell if he shoved it into his back pocket this time, and frankly, I don’t care. My eyes are still closed tightly when I feel his hands on my breasts, and he lays me down so I’m on my back. Eyes refusing to open, I’m feeling some wetness against the skin of my chest. I open them finally, and see that his head is lowered, face buried between my breasts. Holding one cupped in his hand, his mouth is completely covering my nipple; his tongue is swirling across my areola, baring his teeth to nibble gently on the skin surrounding it. He removes his mouth and moves to the other - I can see the nipple he just switched over from hardening. He’s working his lips over the other one now; his hand squeezing the opposite one he just had his mouth over, pinching the nipple between his fingers. His opposite hand is wandering up and down my side, across my stomach, up to my nipple and back down again. Bucking my hips against his on instinct, I can feel his crotch hardening against the fabric of my shorts. 

_Okay. So he’s got a definite hard-on, and he’s pretty much going to town on my tits right now. He hasn’t screamed or run away in disgust. This is a good sign... I think? It’s been so long that I’ve been with anyone (at least consensually...) that it’s difficult for me to gauge whether he actually likes what’s underneath him, or if he’s merely tolerating me at the moment, for the sole purpose of getting off._

Laughing to myself, I brush my fingers through his hair and hold his head against my chest. He’s still suckling at my now swollen nipple; the other one is just as hard as his cock is. There’s a tingling feeling on the skin on my upper body. I start to feel warm all over and the throbbing feeling below my stomach returns. Even on the rare occasion that I masturbate, it generally takes a while before I start to get turned on. Last night’s dream about him took me a good hour or so. It’s unusual that he could get me going so quickly from just this alone. 

Xavier pauses to lift his head off my chest, hands down and removes his own shirt. I reach my hands up and slowly run my palms across his pale, lean torso, which is hairless and smooth. He isn’t built like Chet, or even Ray - he’s much skinnier, but that doesn’t matter. He’s a gorgeous man (ghost? phantom? What even _is_ he?) all around. I stop and bite my lip when I realize that he’s undoing his belt buckle and slowly unzipping his pants. I guess this shit just got real. It’s been nice so far, but I don’t know if I’m ready for this part. 

He must sense my nervousness, because he suddenly stops. 

Leaning down to my side, he sees me pulling the blanket up to my neck, covering myself up. He places his hands on my shoulders and begins to gently rub my arms. 

“You’re shaking,” he says, nuzzling his face next to mine. 

There’s definitely a slight chill in the cabin, and my nipples are proof of that (not just the fact that Xavier practically sucked them off my body just now... well, _maybe_ some of that, too.) But he clearly knows that’s not why. 

“How far do you want to take this?” He asks suddenly, clearly picking up the hint.

I shrug. “I didn’t really think about it past getting my shirt off in front of you,” I say, and he chuckles. 

“I gotta be honest myself - I’m surprised you even let me get a little past second base,” he says, leaning down to kiss my bare shoulder and speaks in a low voice. “I’m definitely enjoying this so far, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more, though. I really want you, Bree.” 

I giggle to myself at his usage of “second base,” a phrase I hadn’t heard myself since middle school. Or in movies or on TV. I have to remind myself that this dude died in the mid-1980’s. 

Then it occurs to me that he’s probably waiting for me to say something - did I want him to proceed? I do. I know I do. The wetness forming below my stomach is telling me so, and my body is reacting positively to his touches. I want him, I definitely do. But I’m not sure I’m ready for too much else at this time.

He should know at least part of my insecurities, I decide right there. 

I sit up next to him, allowing the blanket to drop and revealing my bare upper half. Reaching under the blanket, I hook my fingers into the loops of the boxer shorts and slowly slide out of them. Xavier’s mouth drops open a bit when he sees me pull them out from under me and toss them behind his shoulder. 

“I’m afraid to show you this,” I say, gesturing to my legs underneath the blanket. I could feel my eyes tearing up. “You asked me today why I never wear shorts outside. I do, but only to to bed. So I might as well just do this and get it over with.”

“Bree, I think you’re beautiful.” He looks at me with soft eyes and a small smile. 

I sigh and can actually feel my face blushing at his compliment. He certainly won’t feel that way when he sees what I’m about to show him. 

I get out of bed and reluctantly stand up, covering my face in my hands. When I hear no words or sound come from him, I already know he’s looking at me in disgust. He’s thinking how pathetic and pitiful I am. He’s staring at every single scar that adorns my thighs and my calves. The stretch marks on my hips (which are the least of my worries, but still part of my self confidence issues.) I turn around slowly so he can even view the few scars on the backs of my shins. He’s clearly thinking about what I did to myself, about why he’s involving himself with this fucked up girl. This fucked up woman. It’s bad enough that I have one large scar on my wrist and another one forming on the opposite, that’s still healing. 

I’m sobbing hard as my back is turned to him, when I feel him reach out and grab my hand. He gently pulls me back onto the bed with him and leans forward, his face next to mine. 

“So,” he whispers against the shell of my ear as he slides his arm around my hip. “What am I supposed to be afraid of, exactly?” 

_He’s kidding, right?_

“You’re kidding, right?” I say to him, suddenly feeling a mild shiver as his hand caresses my hip that he’s already touching, and I flinch when his opposite hand brushes itself across my thigh... across one of my larger scars. I almost forget that I’m sitting shirtless with my bare tits out in front of him, when I catch his eyes darting downwards towards my chest for a second before he puts his mouth to my ear again. 

“Why would I be kidding?” He whispers. “I meant what I said. You’re beautiful.”

Warm tears still rolling down my face, I point to the scar on my thigh that his hand is covering. Feeling self conscious once again, I reach over behind me and grab my shirt, pulling it back over my head, sans bra. He seems a little disappointed that he can’t look at my boobs anymore, but doesn’t say anything. 

“You’re worried about a few scars?” He asks, slowly running the tip of his finger along one. His glides it along the thick skin of my thigh, moving inwards. I can see him partially heading towards the crotch of my panties, but he seems somewhat hesitant. 

“There’s more than a few, Xavier,” I say. “My legs are fucking covered in them. And... ugh, I’m so ashamed to say this, but they’re there... because of me. I did this to myself. Many times, since I was a teenager. Some of them are more recent...” 

I don’t finish my sentence, because I’m still crying. 

Xavier’s mouth morphs into a frown, and I hear a sigh come from him. He turns my head and kisses me, very gently. 

“You know I don’t care about any of that,” he whispers. 

“I just wish I felt confident enough so I could keep going...” I say, wiping my eyes. 

He looks at me with a very serious look. 

“Do you even want to keep going?” He asks, in a quiet tone. 

I somehow manage to nod. Even despite my feelings, I do want him, and make sure it’s clear that he knows I’m saying yes. 

“Let’s make this about you then. Lie down,” he says. I do as I’m told, but not sure why he’s asking me to. Not at first. But, he suddenly shifts his body away and positions himself in front of my legs, rubbing both of my shins.

“I don’t care about those scars. Or how you got them. You’re still beautiful to me. And... well, I have a proposition for you, if you’ll let me,” he says, and his eyes lower downward. “To show you exactly how much I don’t care, I want to make you feel good.” It’s clear as day now - he’s _definitely_ staring at my crotch. 

I have a feeling what he’s about to ask. But, I do like that he’s letting me call the shots. 

“Ask away,” I respond, trying to hide the nervous tension that I’m filled with. The nerves come out in full force when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties. My skin begins to tingle once more as he slowly pulls them down my legs and pushes them off to the side of the bed. His eyelids droop a little and he licks his lips. If he’s trying to be subtle, it’s not working. I’m oblivious at times, but he could not be any clearer with what he wants right now.

He lifts his head and looks at me, cocking his head. “Sorry for being crass, but...” he pauses, and it’s more than obvious that his eyes are fixated lustfully between my legs. He doesn’t say anything for a minute or so; his eyes are transfixed on my most private area as if it’s the most glorious thing he’s ever seen. 

**(If I’m being honest, I didn’t think my pussy was anything special, but fuck it, who am I to argue with him?)**

“I’m really wondering how you taste,” he says finally, in almost a whisper. “Just you though, like I said. Then we can stop for the night if you’re uncomfortable. I promise. You don’t have to do anything for me.”

 _Now I know he’s kidding._

“Wait, you’re offering to go down on me, without reciprocation?” I say. He nods his head yes. His eyes, his entire face, is filled with a look that’s even more intense than it was before. He must really want to do this. It’s a welcome change from a couple of men I’ve been with in the past (the ones I was okay being with, to clarify here) who only would do it if they got something in return, that’s for sure. 

“What’s the catch?” I follow up. 

**(Oh, who am I kidding? I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t want what he’s offering, if he’s being serious. Despite my nervousness, I really do want his perfect mouth on me in the worst way right now.)**

Xavier rolls his eyes and smirks once again. Leaning forward, he lifts the bottom of my shirt up and gently kisses down my stomach and around my navel before he moves to my calves. He raises my right leg and begins brushing his lips over a few of the scars, slowly working his way up, softly kissing the inside of my thigh, before switching to the other. It’s no use now - there’s a pit forming in my stomach and any sort of mild arousal I had before, is growing immensely. His teasing is making sure of that. 

I’m still waiting for him to tell me the catch, a response from him that never comes as I feel his soft lips against the skin of my opposite thigh. I still don’t know if he’s doing this to prove that he doesn’t care about what my bare legs look like. Or if he really just wants to. Shit. I glance downwards and realize it’s been a while since I’ve trimmed or shaved down there. (I may have to invest in a razor next time I go back into town, if we keep this up after tonight. And probably condoms.) He doesn’t seem to mind. He just doesn’t seem _real_ \- I guess technically he isn’t, since he’s a ghost after all.

My brain is running on overdrive and I almost don’t even notice when he spreads my thighs open, positions both of my legs over his shoulders and lays down in front of me. 

Then my brain on overdrive suddenly shuts down when I feel his fingers spreading me open and his warm tongue slipping itself into the folds of my vagina. Moaning against my lower lips, the vibrations send goosebumps up my legs. His tongue begins lightly caressing my clit, but he’s not finished yet, licking gently as my hips begin involuntarily grinding into his mouth. His fingertips delicately tickle my inner thighs just below my groin, which adds to the sensations I’m feeling. He’s clearly already picked up that I’m super sensitive in those spots, and is using it to his advantage. Fuck me... (well, I guess he is, with his mouth at least, for now). 

My hands at my sides tightly grip the sheets of the bed. The sounds coming from my mouth don’t sound like me. They’re definitely moans - moans that haven’t left my lips in I can’t even remember how long. My mind is completely blank and I can’t concentrate on anything except what’s happening between my legs. Xavier’s mouth is just as beautiful as his face, and holy fuck, he knows how to use it well. It shows. Biting my lower lip, I whine a little when I feel him pulling away and look up at him, realizing he’s putting two of his fingers into his mouth and leans down once more. He slides one finger into me and curls it, placing my legs on his shoulders again, and out of nowhere, his mouth opens and he descends, beginning to suck softly on my clit. Not long after, barely allowing himself to even come up for air, he speeds up a little faster, rotating between gentle and rougher and back again. I’m caught slightly off guard when he lifts me up and flicks his tongue inside my anus, including it as he brings it all the way back up to suck on my clit once more.

And that’s where I begin losing my goddamn mind. 

My hips are flailing, thrusting into his mouth, and he has to hold me down with one hand. My back arches against the sheets and I feel them scrunching up under my back. I don’t even know what’s happening anymore. His name unintentionally leaves my mouth when I feel his lips surrounding my clit again. Briefly looking down at him, I see his eyebrows raise at the sound of his name. He’s focusing on my clit once more and keeps going; obviously now he’s figured out that it’s where most of my arousal comes from. He’s good. He’s _really_ fucking good at this. 

It’s not much longer before I reach my climax and pull the pillow out from behind me, tossing it onto my face to make sure I’m not moaning too loud. When I start coming down from the orgasm and breathing heavily, I pull the pillow off and see that Xavier hasn’t stopped yet. He keeps going through it and continues brushing his fingers along my thighs. It’s becoming too much, so I eventually push him away from the oversensitivity. When I’ve finally completely come down from my high, he licks around his mouth and crawls up next to me. His lips are still a little wet, which I can see from the moonlight reflected through the window.

Seeing me shiver a bit, he reaches over the bed and hands me my panties and shorts. I pull them both back up onto my lower half, and Xavier tugs the blanket over us, snuggling up next to me underneath as he gently pets my hair and forehead, even though my face is damp with sweat. 

“So, apparently,” he says, clearly looking for an excuse to break any possible tension between us. “Trevor did that to Montana on our first night here back in 1984. They hadn’t even kissed yet. They went skinny dipping in the lake and he went down on her while under water.” He giggles. 

“I guess everyone here has heard that story,” I say to him. “Montana is certainly fond of telling it to everyone she comes in contact with.”

“Oh, believe me, so is Trevor,” Xavier replies. “He’s told us all that story at least a hundred times over the years. As if he didn’t tell us the very night it happened, which he did.” He pauses and lets out a sigh. “I’m not that talented,” he says. I don’t know exactly what he means. 

“I don’t know, I think my reaction just now says otherwise,” I say to him, which elicits a laugh from him, a little louder this time. 

“Well, thanks,” he says, and his lips shift into a smile. “I’ll gladly do that whenever you want me to. It’s one of my favorite things. Just don’t ask me to do that if we go swimming. That’s what I mean.”

“Okay then,” I say, looking for another excuse to lighten the mood a bit. “So you’re only comfortable eating my pussy while on dry land. Got it.” 

Xavier tilts his head back and his mouth opens, laughing way harder now. I didn’t think my comment was that funny; he seems to think it is, so I guess I’ll accept it. He then lays back and holds my hand against his chest. I look down and realize he still has no shirt on, but his pants are still covering his legs. The flaps are unzipped, and it looks like he’s slowly losing his erection.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get anything out of this,” I say, feeling bad and wondering in my head if I want to do something more for him.

He giggles again and rolls over, facing me as he leans in and softly pecks my lips. 

“Don’t worry babe, I got _so_ much out of it,” he responds. “Like I said, I was surprised you even let me touch you.”

It’s my turn to sigh now. Xavier leans in and grazes his nose against mine. 

“I fully expected you to find me hideous and then run for the hills,” I say to him, pushing that damn stray strand of his hair out of his face. His spectacular blue eyes are sparkling in the glow of the moon that’s poking through the window. 

He rolls his eyes once again and follows up by kissing me. We do that for a while and he holds my body close against his. I swear I can feel his heartbeat, before I remember that he doesn’t have one. He pushes my hair out of the way and leaves warm, open mouthed kisses on my neck and under my ear as his arms enfold me under the blanket. He doesn’t say anything in response to what I’ve just said. His physical reaction is likely all I’m getting, so I decide to change the subject. 

“How did you die?” 

It’s a question I’ve been wanting to ask him. Bobby’s binder didn’t have an official cause of death listed for anyone except for Montana, and I hadn’t gotten far enough into my own research to see any others.

I turn to look at him. He’s still clutching me while laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He says nothing, but grips my hand tighter. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” I follow up. 

“No, it’s totally cool,” Xavier replies in a low voice. “There’s really not much to tell. Jingles was strangling Margaret over by the archery targets, he was even holding her up in the air. I picked up a bow and arrow and shot him a few times until he fell down. I even did a goddamn victory dance, thinking that I had killed him and saved us all.”

An image of Xavier doing a victory dance flashes through my head. Ugh, he’s adorable. 

“Keep in mind, this was before I realized how fucking evil Margaret was,” he continues. “I don’t think any of us knew at that point. Except maybe for Trevor. I think she had already attempted to kill him. I can’t be too sure. Anyway, so Jingles is down for the count and he’s on the ground, looking like a human dartboard - that’s how many arrows I shot into him. I walk over to Margaret and ask if she’s okay. Then, I don’t even see it coming - she throws me onto my back, grabs Jingles’ knife and shoves it right through my chest. And the whole time before that, I was thinking that I was actually gonna survive. I had already made it out of being burned alive by Jingles that night, just to get stabbed to death by Margaret Booth. Go fucking figure.” 

I can hear a hint of a quiver in his voice as he trails off. I feel so sorry for him, and I almost don’t want to ask the other question I have. 

Xavier turns his face and looks at me right in the eye.

“You’re wondering how I got burned, aren’t you?” He asks. 

I nod. “Again, you don’t have to tell me.” 

He sighs for what seems like the tenth time since we’ve been together this evening. “I already told you how I died. Might as well tell you how I almost did and just barely survived.” 

He pauses, and then speaks again, all the while still holding me close to him. It almost seems like he doesn’t want to let go of me. 

“I attempted to go save Bertie earlier,” he says. “She was in the mess hall, making sandwiches for the kids who hadn’t even arrived yet, like the saint she is. She didn’t believe me at first when I told her that Jingles was there and he was on a murder spree. You know, she even offered to make me some hot chocolate to help calm me down.”

I listen to him, and am definitely not prepared for the rest of what he’s about to say. 

“But then, she clearly realizes I’m telling the truth when Jingles comes into the dining hall through the back door,” he continues. “I hid under the table, and she tried to talk some sense into him, I guess since they worked together here at Redwood in the 70’s. She even made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She made him a fucking sandwich while I’m under the table sobbing in fear, like a coward.”

I can hear the quiver in his voice pick up. I want to assure him that he’s not a coward - anyone in that position would have a right to be terrified. I let him finish, but nothing can prepare me for what he tells me next. 

“My flashlight - the one I gave to you - falls out of my hand and hits the floor. He clearly knew I was there now, so he looks under the table and grabs me, pulls me out. I don’t know what else to do, so I just start shouting at him and kicking him. Then Bertie jumped up from behind him and whacked him with a meat cleaver; she tried to save me. She fell off him and then he knocked me out cold. When I come to, I’m feeling extremely hot, and it takes a second before I realize I’m inside that giant oven in the kitchen, and I can’t open the door. He locked me inside the oven and it was turned on, probably all the way up.”

I bite my lip and feel my entire body physically cringing. 

“Holy... shit...” I say, dragging out each word. 

He holds me even tighter now, and keeps talking. 

“I don’t know how long I was in that oven for,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt a heat like that in my life. Even in the dead of summer in the middle of the city, it wasn’t ever like that. It was like being in literal Hell, so to speak. I was wearing that same jacket...” He reaches up and points to his purple jacket hanging on the hook next to the door of the cabin. “I pulled it over my head to try and get some of the heat to radiate off my skin, but there was no use. My clothes are burning. I can see the skin peeling off my hands. I banged on the door of that oven, screamed for help, but nobody heard me. I was a goner for sure. But then... Bertie appears in front of the oven window. I start yelling her name. She pulls the thing Jingles used to keep the oven door closed - a giant fucking soup ladle - off the door handle and it opens. I fall out. That woman saved my life... and then I had to take hers.”

“Wait, what?!” I say, in complete surprise. 

Xavier rubs his free hand across his face and I can see a tear running down his cheek now. 

“I might as well tell you this part,” he says. “I’ve told you everything else. Bertie’s on the floor of the kitchen. Jingles messed her up really bad - she had these gnarly as fuck injuries. She was bleeding everywhere. I can barely speak and tell her I’ll go get help. Instead, she pulls her chef’s knife off the table above us and hands it to me, points it right at her chest. She motions for me to... then, I just lost it and started crying right there. I couldn’t do it. She insisted. She was in so much pain and wanted to be put out of her misery. This woman just saved my life, and now she wants me to mercy kill her? What else was I supposed to do?!”

His small cries have turned into hard sobs now, and he rubs his eyes between his fingers. I gently start petting his forehead and stroking his hair, curling up next to him.

“I didn’t know any of that,” I whisper to him. “I am so, so sorry.” 

“Sometimes I still think it’s my fault that she, her soul, is stuck here with the rest of us,” he says, still clutching my body tightly. “She’s as close to a fucking saint as anyone I’ve ever met. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“Xavier, it’s not your fault that she’s here,” I try to reassure him. “It’s nobody’s fault but Jingles. She probably would have died of her injuries even without your mercy kill. You just did exactly what she asked you to do. You did nothing wrong. Clearly, she doesn’t hate you...” I pause, thinking of what Bertie told me earlier.

I already can tell by the look on his face that he knows exactly what I’m thinking. 

“Yeah... about that...” he says. He’s still staring at the ceiling and I can see his face is wet from crying so much. “It only happened once. We were on duty one night in the shack, and got to talking about how we had some joking flirtations in the past. When we left after the shift, we passed by the boathouse and it just... happened. She initiated it. Said there had been tension between us for years. She wasn’t totally wrong, so I just went with it... but shit, it was weird, you know? She was like the mother I never had. Even though it was just that one time, it still meant something to me, in a strange way. Everyone knew about it because someone saw us leaving the boathouse together the next morning.” 

He pauses, then speaks again. 

“And clearly it didn’t mean anything to her,” he continues. “You know she was fooling around with Chet? The night that Bobby came here. They were playing Pictionary and making out on the couch in the shack when Ramirez woke up. That’s how he got away, because they weren’t paying attention. He got loose and went after Bobby. He even got him, shoved his knife right through Bobby’s back. He only was able to escape because I tackled Ramirez to the ground and we managed to hold him down. If Bobby knows what’s good for him, he won’t ever come back here. When I found out the next day how Ramirez was able to get out, with Chet and Bertie, I...” He lets out yet another long sigh. “I still don’t know how to feel about it all. Being here? I just feel numb all the time. I feel nothing.”

“That’s how I feel all the time, myself,” I say, leaning my body into him. “And I’m alive.” 

He pulls me close into him and turns to face me. “We have something in common, you know,” he whispers. “You were worried about the scars on your legs? The one good thing about dying - the only good thing, was that all the third degree burns I endured from being in that oven, completely disappeared when I became a ghost. You should have seen me, Bree. Now _that_ was hideous.”

I laugh and intertwine my fingers through his. “I would still like you. No matter what.” I really mean it when I say it. As fucked as it sounds, it does make me feel slightly less self conscious knowing that he had scars, burns, himself. 

But I don’t dare say that out loud. Instead, I say the first, albeit just as messed up, thing that comes to mind.

“It’s kind of a weird relief to know that if I died here tomorrow, my scars will disappear completely,” I say with a laugh. Xavier doesn’t laugh back. 

“Don’t talk like that,” he says. “You don’t want this pathetic excuse of an existence. Trust me. We wake up every day feeling basically nothing. We can’t leave the grounds. We can’t grow old, or experience the world around us. You don’t know how good you have it.”

I don’t try to argue his point. I’m feeling tired, and it shows when I unintentionally let out a yawn. 

“You can go to sleep, if you want,” Xavier says. 

“Will you stay?” I ask softly. 

He smiles and leans his face over, kissing both of my cheeks and my lips. “I wasn’t planning on leaving, so it’s nice to know you’re not kicking me out.” He turns on his side and wraps both his arms around me from behind. 

“What will your cabin mates think?” I ask, realizing it’s probably a silly question. 

“They don’t care,” he says into my ear. “Not like I can go much farther than the campgrounds. Sometimes I don’t really sleep anyway and just go for walks at night, when I’m not on Ramirez duty in the shack. None of us completely sleep through the night anymore. But I still like to pretend to.” 

Neither of us speak after that. My eyes slowly flutter shut and I feel Xavier’s large hands covering my small ones as I drift off.

  
  


At some point during the night, I wake up and feel him breathing against my neck, his obvious erection against the back of my shorts. He’s awake, and apologizes profusely for “his little friend’s intrusion into my butt mid-slumber” (his words, not mine). I instinctively reach over behind me and begin stroking his crotch through his pants. 

“You don’t have to,” he whispers, pulling my hair away to nuzzle his face against my neck. 

“I want to. May I?” I ask, and turn to look at him. His eyelids lower a bit, and he nods in agreement as I turn over. I unzip those white pants of his and slip my right hand inside his underwear, wrapping around his hard cock with my palm, in a more gentle manner than I did when I touched him earlier that day. My thumb glides itself over his tip, gripping his length in my hand and caressing up and down his shaft, starting off slow and eventually speeding up. I keep my eyes fixated on his - I need a distraction. Feeling him getting even harder in my hand is weird enough for me, and for some reason, I can’t bring myself to actually look at it just yet. 

With every stroke, his breathing intensifies and his eyes don’t leave their contact with mine. He pulls me on top of him before his own hand makes its way under my shirt, roughly tweaking my nipples and grazing his fingers down the valley between my breasts. He’s providing me more distraction that I was looking for. Taking his fingers off my chest and briefly wetting two of them with his mouth, before he caresses the palm that they adorn over my stomach and slowly rubs his fingertips over the crotch of my panties inside my shorts. I don’t doubt by the look on his face that he’s probably already feeling the wetness that’s formed there; he takes that as a cue and uses both his hands to pull down my shorts slightly, panties along with them. He’s already brushing his fingers along my now bare groin, hovering slightly - almost as if he’s not sure if he wants to do something more to me.

“You can touch me, too,” I say to him in a low voice as my hand keeps pumping him. With that said, he leans in and sucks heavily on my neck as he uses two of his slicked fingers to part my labia, sliding one inside as the other finds and then rubs small circles on my clit. I’m still stroking him, and gripping my free hand onto the delicate skin of his back. He’s right up against my body and goes faster, as do I with him, and I suddenly realize that I’m riding his fingers with my shorts and panties down around my ankles. His fingers are pumping harder and he puts pressure on my clit, slightly more than earlier. He’s going at a rougher pace than he was when he went down on me before - I’m trying my damndest to concentrate on him, until I feel his finger that’s inside me curling up and then other keeping its focus on my clit. Holy shit... it’s a feeling I haven’t felt in so long, since his fingers are way longer than mine. It’s getting harder for me to concentrate on stroking him, but somehow I manage to keep going. 

His other hand grips my breast tightly, almost painfully so. He suddenly removes his free hand from under my shirt and reaches down further, and I flinch when I feel his fingernails gripping onto one of my ass cheeks, which he follows up by giving it a couple of strangely light smacks. It clearly adds to the sensations I’m feeling when I start grinding my hips faster into his hand. I must be doing better than I thought, because his eyes are closed so tightly, I can’t even look at them anymore; his mouth drops open and his breathing is heavier than it was before. So I do the only other thing I can think of, and manage to bring my face down and work my tongue into his mouth, all the while he’s still got his fingers inside me as I’m rolling my hips and simultaneously pumping him as hard as I possibly can. 

Neither of us last much longer, and somehow we both end up orgasming at close to the same time. I bury my head into the crook of his shoulder and am too invested in coming down from my own climax, that I barely notice when he finally removes his fingers from inside me. The feeling of his cock twitching and then cumming into my hand is a strange one, something I’ve never actually experienced before. But I don’t tell him that. 

When he finishes, he leans back against the sheets under him. His breathing becomes lower and more shallow, and I can hear him inhaling next to my hair. I’m still lying on top of him, and my own breathing finally slows. He keeps one hand on my ass and gently massages the spot where he spanked me (and he hadn’t even done it that hard). He then reaches down with both hands and pulls up my shorts and panties for me. Both were sweet gestures, neither that he necessarily had to do, but did them anyway.

“Well, you finally got something, so you can leave whenever you want,” I whisper to him, reaching behind his head to wipe my hand that had just been inside his pants on one of the towels that I have hanging on my bed post. Out of the corner of my eye, Xavier is adjusting himself and putting his cock back into his pants; I hear him zipping himself up. I’m still hunched over the edge of the bed cleaning off my hand and can’t help but notice how he’s almost slyly trying to hide the fact that he’s sucking, almost sensually, on both of his fingers that he just used on me. I smirk at him discreetly as I pull myself back up onto the bed. Somehow I didn’t think I had gotten that wet between both our encounters that night, but he’s still licking what’s left of me off his fingers. Earlier, he ate me out as if he hadn’t eaten anything substantial in years (which I actually don’t think he has, to be fair). 

When he’s finished cleaning off his fingers, he turns my head to his and shushes me by kissing me on the lips, tenderly. 

“Knock it off,” he says with a grin, and I roll off of him as he’s pulling the covers back over us both. 

“No, really, I’m sorry I don’t feel comfortable going past this right now,” I say, intertwining his fingers with mine underneath the blanket. “Before you... I haven’t... it’s been a really, really long time since I’ve had sex.” The words finally come out. 

He smiles, and brushes the backs of his fingers against my cheek. “Well, you did say you hadn’t kissed anyone in long time before me either. So, I kinda figured that,” he says with a small laugh. “It’s more than okay.”

I feel the fingertips of his other hand brushing against my thigh underneath the covers.

“Do you mind if I ask... is it because of the scars?”

His question only half catches me off guard. Biting my lip and taking a deep breath, I answer him. 

“Some of it is,” I say. “There’s... other reasons. I, uh... well... I don’t really know how to say this. The last time I was with someone... it wasn’t consensual. I had told him no... and yet...”

It’s too late. Tears have started coming from my eyes now. I was trying to avoid this. Xavier leans forward and kisses my forehead, wiping his thumb under both under my eyes. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he says. “I’m so sorry, Bree. I just enjoy being here with you.”

“I do want to. I hope you know that,” I say to him softly. “I’m not fully comfortable being naked in front of you, but I want to be. Eventually. I just... it’s not easy. I’m so fucked up, like I told you. I do want you. Just, maybe be patient with me?” 

Xavier presses his forehead against mine. “You wanna go swimming tomorrow?” He asks out of nowhere. “Just both of us. Maybe it’ll help you be able to have less clothes on in front of me? Might make things easier for you if it’s in a non-sexual context. We can just swim. If you wanna fool around or anything, you call the shots.” 

He smiles at me, and he looks almost as if he’s asking in a shy way. I think to myself that as long as he’s being genuine about this, it’s actually a really good idea. I trust him. Its been a long time since I’ve trusted anyone like this, but I do. In those moments while I was on top of him, I did consider having him fuck me with more than just his fingers. But that’s going to have to wait, for now. 

“I’d like that,” I say. “You can still leave now, if you want.” 

He just laughs again. “I don’t know where you got this idea that I’m leaving, but I’m not going anywhere. Go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” He says. He can say whatever he wants to, but I fully expect him to be gone in the morning. 

I’m feeling his arms wrap themselves around my waist before I finally doze off, and don’t wake up again until I see the sunlight coming in through the window. I turn over to my left, and Xavier is still there, latched on to me as if he’s holding on for dear life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the song “Need You Tonight” by INXS. It felt appropriate for this one!


	5. Everybody Wants To Rule The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bree gets more comfortable with Xavier, and then meets some of the more unsavory residents of Camp Redwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of short and I feel like I kind of half assed it. There’s more smut. Xavier and Bree are getting closer still. There’s some violence. A one time character from 1984 makes an appearance at the end. Oh, and I threw in a meta reference to Murder House/Apocalypse in there, because I had to. Enjoy.

**Day Four At Redwood**

  
“Well, you’re certainly glowing this morning, Bree,” Bertie says, shooting me a smirk and a wink as I finish up boiling water for my oatmeal over the campfire. “Can’t say I’m surprised. I saw Xavier heading into your cabin last night and then I saw him leaving this morning when the sun came up.” 

I don’t know how to answer her, considering my face is probably hotter than the fire right now. 

“Don’t be embarrassed hun, I’m just teasing ya,” she assures me as I begin to pour some of the water into my bowl. 

“We didn’t have sex,” I clarify to her, taking my seat on the wooden bench. “But... yeah, he did stay the night, and what _did_ happen was great. So was he. That’s all I’m gonna say.” 

“Believe me, say no more,” she says to me, putting her hand on my back and patting it gently. “I’m happy you took my advice and went for it, though. Considering how unsure you seemed, I’m proud of you for taking that step and asserting yourself.” 

“We’re supposed to go swimming in a little bit,” I say to her, scooping out some of my oatmeal. “Can you... maybe, do what you can from keeping the rest of the ghosts from coming by the lake?” 

Bertie smirks again before she speaks. “I’ll do the best I can, but trust me, there’s no reason to be self conscious. Now that the rest of them know for a fact there’s something going on, they’ll leave you two be. Everyone here’s nosy for sure, but I’ll be damned if we still weren’t a respectful bunch. And if anyone has anything to say about it, I’ll smack them upside their head.” 

I smile at her and continue eating. 

  
  
A short while later, Xavier appears outside my cabin with an old, faded and colored beach towel slung over his shoulder. I don’t bother showering since the water in the bag isn’t hot yet, so I grab one of my own two towels and walk with him down to the lake. 

He doesn’t say anything but keeps his hand on my back as we approach the lake, where he sets his towel on the ground and I do the same. He’s dressed in a purple sleeveless shirt that shows his torso just slightly and a pair of gray cotton shorts that are almost _too_ short on him. He clearly came prepared, unlike me, who’s still wearing jeans in 90 degree heat. He takes a few steps towards the lake and kicks his shoes off, followed by his socks, and immediately pulls his shirt over his head, then his shorts. 

I gulp as I see him standing there in his white briefs, and can’t help but blush when he, without a hint of embarrassment, pulls them down in front of me and tosses them to the side. The sight of him naked for the first time is something I’ll have to get used to - I do my best to not try and stare at him. It doesn’t last long, as he turns around and runs straight to the dock, where he dives into the water head first. 

“I didn’t think you would want to get your hair wet,” I jokingly say to him as I do the only thing I can manage so far, which is to take off my own shoes and socks. 

“Ha... ha...” he deadpans from the water. “Come on in though. The water is perfect right now.” 

I somehow manage to not care enough and pull my shirt right off, standing there in my bra and jeans. My hesitation comes back immediately after that, but regardless, I take a deep breath and pull my jeans down too. 

He must sense my resistance. 

“Come on, Bree,” he calls up to me from the water. “Not like I haven’t seen you, you know, after last night.”

He’s right, though he hasn’t seen the whole thing, he’s still seen both halves of me already. I grit my teeth and shut my eyes tight as I pull my panties down and my bra off before running up to the dock and jumping in after him. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He says when he swims up next to me, holding me close to him under water. It’s a weird feeling having our bodies so close to each other, but Xavier doesn’t do anything besides hold me by my hips. His hands briefly bring themselves up my torso and caress me, but I push him away gently - this morning, I noticed that he had left a hickey directly on top of one of my breasts, and decide that teasing him should be his punishment for now. 

“No touching,” I say to him in a low voice. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the mark you left on my chest.”

Xavier’s face turns bright red in front of me. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” he says, leaning forward in the water and kissing my lips softly. “Guess I got a little too excited. But I really didn’t think you were gonna let me touch you.” 

“Keep it up and you don’t get to anymore,” I say to him, playfully splashing him with some water in his face. He returns the favor by splashing me back, and I respond by wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling me into him for a deeper, more passionate kiss. 

“That no touching rule didn’t last long, I see,” he says, and we kiss in the water for a good while. His body is pressed right up against mine and feeling his bare cock brushing against my thigh is equally weird, but he does nothing but keep his hands on my neck and sides. He’s gentle and respectful the entire time we’re in the lake - so much so that when my skin starts to feel a little pruny, I consider taking things a step further when we get back onto shore. 

I’m not sure about how much time has passed, but eventually I swim up to the ladder on the dock and climb out of the water. Xavier comes out behind me, and without bothering to get dressed yet, I turn around for some reason. I’m still in mild shock seeing him naked once more, and mild turns to slightly medium when I realize that he now has a full erection as he’s following me towards where we left our towels.

He notices my smirking and looks down.

“Damn it, I didn’t mean to do that!” He says, laughing somewhat awkwardly. “I just... I mean... We’re closer to where people can see us. And in daylight,” he says.

“So what?” I say as I pull his hand and lead him over to his beach towel. Gently pushing him down on it so he sits, I crawl down and hover over him, starting to run my fingers along his shaft. He lays on his back and I turn on my side slightly, but he instead pulls me down so I’m next to him and unexpectedly, he gently lifts my hand off him and pulls it away. 

“Let’s just lay here for a while,” he says. “I have a better idea. I’m on Ramirez duty up at the shack in a bit. Ray’s supposed to come with me, but I can tell him to take a break. I’ll show you how we take care of him, as long as you aren’t squeamish. Plus, we get to be alone.” 

I think about it for a minute or so as my hand brushes over his bare chest, and try to keep my mind off his dick that’s going soft in front of me. 

“Yeah, sure,” I finally say, settling into his arms. I don’t think I’m that squeamish, considering the amount of blood I’ve seen in my life, but I also know that killing someone - even someone who will be supernaturally resurrected eventually - is a whole different ballgame. Nonetheless, I _am_ morbidly curious about the whole process. 

Xavier smiles as me after I say yes and holds me to him. We lay there naked on his towel - just lay, for some time, and don’t do anything but hold each other. It’s surprisingly sweet, and very intimate. I occasionally perk my head up to see if anyone is coming. Every time I do, Xavier tilts my head to him and kisses me, presumably to help me not worry. Not once does he look at my legs, and barely even looks at my tits or my crotch - he mostly keeps his eyes on my face. 

It’s not much later that we both get dressed and Xavier picks up his towel, tossing it behind his neck and shoulders as he leads me up a small hill towards the shack. As we approach the dilapidated building, I see Jonas and Courtney walking away from it. Xavier stops them and pulls Courtney aside - I vaguely hear him saying something about telling Ray not to come up. They both look at me strangely out of the corner of their eyes and walk away. Xavier distracts me from Courtney’s prying eyes by putting his hand on my back and guides me inside the shack as he pushes the door open.

It looks like any sort of run down shed on the inside, held together by beams and boards. A couch adorned in brown leather and a small coffee table sit in the middle of the room. Another stack of board games and a deck of cards, as well as some books, are propped underneath said coffee table. I can’t help but notice in the far left corner of the shack, are numerous weapons - a chainsaw, a sledgehammer, knives of varying sizes, a machete, a few axes, a shovel, and a few other pieces of hardware I can’t quite make out, all loaded in a pile. 

In the front corner of the shed is something - _someone_ \- I hadn’t noticed before. I take a step forward, but not too far, as Xavier holds me back. The figure is lying on their back on the ground. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he was just sleeping. He’s dressed all in black - a thin black leather jacket, black jeans, black boots. His hair is also black, and somewhat on the longer side, just barely hitting his shoulders. Despite having skin covered with some acne, the man on the ground has a rather handsome face, but that thought quickly fades as soon I remember who this is - 

Richard Ramirez. _The Night Stalker_. 

“Ramirez,” I say quietly. 

“Yup, there he is, in all his dead as a door nail glory,” Xavier speaks up. “So it’s pretty simple, really. We stay here as long as possible until he wakes and resurrects. Once he’s up, we choose whatever we want to do and murder him in any way we see fit. We have our choice of weapons in the corner over there. As I told you, I’m a big fan of the chainsaw, but I might switch things up and go with the axe today. What do you think, Bree?” 

He looks at me with utmost seriousness as he takes the axe from the pile and I don’t say anything back. I don’t know what to say. I’ve never willingly watched anyone be murdered before, even if it’s a deranged serial killer who sooner or later comes back to life via supernatural forces. 

Xavier must sense that I’m extremely weirded out by all this. “Yeah... I guess for someone who’s never done it, it can be pretty intimidating,” he says to me, placing the axe upside down against the side of the couch. “If it’s too bizarre for you, you don’t have to stay.” 

“No, I want to,” I say to him, holding his hands in mine. “You invited me, after all.”

He smiles at me and walks to the couch, taking a seat. 

“So, we can play a game if you want...” he starts to speak, pulling a Monopoly board out from under the coffee table. 

**(Is he kidding me right now?)**

“We could,” I say to him, and slowly approach him. I’m not even really thinking about it - I take the box with the game away from him and put it back on the table, and throw myself over his lap, straddling him. “I would rather play with you, though,” I lean in and whisper to him. 

He looks at me and raises both eyebrows. “So we aren’t taking it slow anymore, after last night?” He says, settling his hands on my back. “Is that what this is?”

“Forget taking it slow,” I say to him, leaning forward and kissing him hard. He gives in and kisses back. I push myself right up against his chest and instinctively grind against him underneath me. When I pull away from him, I speak again. 

“I still don’t know if I’m ready to fuck yet,” I say quietly. “But, I’m... before, in the lake, and on the shore, it was really nice. I’m feeling much more comfortable now. So, we can do everything else for the time being. If that’s okay with you. Like last night. Or more...” 

He pauses me by kissing my lips again. “That’s fine. It’s more than fine, in fact,” he whispers. “Last night was really perfect, if I’m being honest.” 

“I... I’m not gonna lie though. I do want you,” I say. “I did last night. I was just too nervous. So, tomorrow I’m gonna go into town and get some more things. Maybe I’ll get... condoms...” 

Xavier raises his eyebrows again. “Is that even necessary?” He interrupts. Under normal circumstances, I would roll my eyes at him for asking such a thing, but I can’t blame him here - he has every right to ask. “I mean, I’m dead...”

“I’m not really sure it is,” I say, and the truth of the matter is, I’m not. “I’m on birth control too, for different reasons other than getting pregnant. But, I would rather be safe than sorry. I saw on this TV show once where a ghost raped a human and the woman ended up giving birth to the Antichrist...”

I don’t get to finish, because Xavier is laughing hard. “Listen Bree, that sounds extreme, even for television,” he says when he calms down.

“Just humor me, will you? Please?”

He looks at me right in the eyes and clearly senses my seriousness. 

“I really don’t think I’m capable of that, but if it’ll make you more comfortable, I’m fine with it. I really mean it.” He brushes his hands along my back and my sides - the look on his face shows me he’s being genuine. 

There’s no more talking after that. Kissing him once again, I continue to grind myself against him and end up pulling my shirt over my head, tossing it off to the side of the couch. He looks at me in surprise, no doubt because this is an obvious change on my end from last night. Clearly swimming with him and laying on his towel by the lake before did something to boost to my confidence levels, because I don’t even hesitate this time when he reaches around my back and unclips my bra, sliding it off and burying his face in my breasts. He spends some time on them, as he did last night, and this time I just relax and go with the feeling of his lips around my nipples and his large hands cupping them, switching his squeezes between rough and gentle. My head is blank and I’m no longer worried about whether or not he finds me attractive anymore. His shirt is off not long after that and I impulsively begin playing with his own nipples, pinching and licking them lightly, and I’m pleasantly surprised when he has a positive reaction to it as he shifts his head back and moans.

I can already see the indentation of his hard on in his shorts, those fucking short shorts of his, and I decide right there that he shouldn’t be wearing them. Leaning down, I slip my hands into the waistband and tug at them a little. 

“Will you let me do something for you?” I ask in a low voice, trying to muster a seductive tone. “As a thank you for what you did for me today, and last night?”

Xavier tilts his head to the side and his eyebrows raise again. “What are you thinking?” He asks, in a low voice of his own. 

I lift myself off him and situate myself on the ground in front of him, pulling his shorts and his white briefs off together and letting them fall down to his ankles. I’m still not used to actually seeing him naked either, but I force myself to get over that quickly as I settle my body between his thighs, rubbing them both lightly with my fingertips. I then grip him with both hands this time and start stroking, tickling his balls a bit before I make my next move: lowering my head and beginning to softly kiss the tip of his cock. 

“Jesus, Bree,” he says, and I can already hear his voice getting low and breathy. “You really don’t have to...” 

I look up at him with pouty lips and eyes. “I told you already. I want to,” I reply to him. “May I?” 

His eyelids droop a little and he nods. 

“You don’t know how badly I want you to.” 

_At least he finally admits it._

To say I’m somewhat nervous is an understatement - I can’t remember the last time I willingly gave a guy head. Maybe sometime in college. It was definitely long before I was assaulted. I take a deep breath and hope to myself that Xavier doesn’t care that I barely know what I’m doing. 

Wrapping my palm around him, I lick up his shaft from the base all the way to the tip a couple of times before taking him in my mouth, as far down as I can. I close my eyes and try not to think too much, just go with it. I try to remember what the best moves are. Add saliva. More suction. Focus on the underside of the head and pump him a little. Lick as much as suck. Kiss it a few times. Blow a small stream of air on him. Pulling away momentarily, I lower my head further and take his balls in my mouth as an experiment, humming gently against them for a bit before returning back up. I must be doing something right - Xavier’s got his hands wound in my hair and he’s running his fingers through it, petting my head almost lovingly. I hear his breathing above me getting heavier and his hips buck upwards slightly.

_By George, I think he likes it?_

I keep this up for a short time. Xavier keeps one hand in my hair, and the other is now gently rubbing the back of my neck. He’s surprisingly quiet, except for his moans, which get progressively louder as I keep going. Wondering how much longer I can go on for, I eventually get my answer when I actually begin to feel his cock twitching against my lips and his voice echoes above my head. That didn’t take too long at all. 

“Fuckkkk, Bree, I - I’m gonna...” he just barely squeaks out.

I wasn’t sure he would even give me a sign, so I give him one last final lick and keep pumping him, watching his cock begin to pulse its thick, opaque liquid from it. The feeling of him releasing into my hand still feels strange to me. His whole upper body shakes a little and I look up to see that his eyes are squeezed shut, his opposite hand gripping the leather on the couch beneath us as he cums across his stomach and my hand. 

When he finishes, he’s just lying there against the pillows on the couch, allowing his breathing to return to normal. I let go of him and wipe my hand on my towel, which I threw over the couch’s armrest. Xavier takes the edge of it and wipes himself up, even as he comes down from the high of his orgasm. 

He opens his eyes finally and stares down at me. I look back at him. I’m not sure what to do now. He answers for me when he pulls me by the arm so I’m sitting down next to him on the couch and strokes the back of my head. 

I giggle to myself as I snuggle next to him, gently rubbing my fingers along the small pattern of freckles he has on his chest.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve given a blowjob,” I admit to him. “I wasn’t sure it would be any good for you, with me being out of practice and all.”

He laughs and kisses the side of my head. “Could’ve fooled me,” he says in a low voice. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say quietly to him. He doesn’t respond. Instead, he lowers his head and lays it against my chest, planting soft kisses on the tops of each of my breasts - including on the mark he left on me - as he makes his way down through the valley between them. When he reaches my stomach and runs his hands over my hips, his fingers undo the button of my jeans and unzips them, pushing me so I’m laying on my back.

I gulp a little and he looks up at me. “I hope you let me return the favor now,” he says with a smirk. After how weak he got me last night from doing this, I can’t say no to him. 

In a manner of minutes, he takes each of my shoes off, followed by pulling my jeans down by the flaps and my panties along with it. I look at his body in front of me and look down at my own, not sure how we’ve both gotten naked together twice in the same afternoon. But unlike earlier when I first stepped into the lake, I’m more comfortable this time. It’s starting to feel more natural. I don’t even flinch and instead, my body is getting warm all over when he begins tickling and kissing my calves and my inner thighs as he works his mouth up further. His fingers are holding onto my hips as he lifts both of my legs up and places my thighs over his shoulders, moving his mouth up towards me, almost agonizingly slow. Bracing myself for impact, I grip my fingers into his perfect hair and feel his thumbs spreading me, his mouth hitting my lower lips once more. 

He’s just gotten started, but I barely have a chance to react to it - I’m immediately freaked out when I glance over his head below my stomach and see movement behind him. Ramirez’s body is beginning to stir - his chest suddenly rises in a breath, his legs begin to move and a low groan leaves his mouth. 

“Shit, Xavier, stop!” I say loudly and push him off me. He looks confused, until I point over his shoulder and he sees what I’m seeing. In seconds, he’s fully clothed again (ghost powers?) and he grabs the axe next to couch’s armrest, ready for action. 

I quickly throw my panties on and my shirt without my bra, and try to slide back into my jeans as fast as I can when, in a panicked frenzy, I fall off the couch and bang my head on the coffee table. 

“Holy shit, Bree, are you okay?!” Xavier shouts as he drops the axe and rushes over to me. Rubbing my head above me, he holds my shoulders and takes a look just underneath my hairline. 

“You have a tiny scratch, but it doesn’t look like it’s too serious,” he says to me, kissing me on the forehead. I don’t say anything - he’s concerned about whether I got hurt, but I’m still staring behind him, and point. He turns to look - Richard Ramirez is hovering over us both, holding what looks like a curved knife in his hand. 

“Well, what do we have here?” He says, his voice deep and menacing as he slowly approaches us. “Fresh meat? I haven’t seen you at the camp before...” 

“You stay away from her!” Xavier shouts at him, getting to his feet and grabbing the axe. But he doesn’t grab it fast enough - I’m holding my mouth and scream through my fingers as I watch Ramirez thrust his blade straight into Xavier’s stomach. His mouth opens and he drops to the floor, blood and guts spilling from the large, open wound. I can barely move and my eyes start to well up as I see his corpse in front of me on the ground, briefly forgetting that he’s already dead and it’ll just be a matter of time before he wakes up. 

But he doesn’t wake fast enough - Ramirez grabs me by the hair and pushes the blade to my throat, running it gently across my chin as I’m shaking in fear. 

I’m fully expecting him to gut me the same way he did to Xavier, but he hesitates and looks at me with serious eyes. 

“You’re not dead,” he says quietly. “And not only are you not dead - you’re a fellow believer. I can sense it in you. You follow the path of Satan.” 

“N-not q-quite,” I stutter to him. 

He pauses before speaking again. 

“No, not quite,” he continues to speak. “I don’t know who you are or how you ended up here, but I sense the power of the Dark Lord inside you. It’s in your blood. Your lineage. Your family history. Yet, for some reason, you reject it.”

He then does something unexpected and removes the blade from my neck, before backing away somewhat. 

“I can’t kill you,” he says, shocking me out of nowhere as he backs away just a bit. “I can’t bring harm to a fellow follower. Even one that claims she doesn’t believe. Trust me, girl, you would do well to reconsider that. You don’t know the powers my Lord has bestowed upon me... the gifts he’s given me. He can do the same for you. All you have to do is - oh, FUCK!” 

I gasp. Ramirez stops speaking when the blade of the axe hits him on top of his head. Blood gushing down his face, he falls to the ground face first, and I see Xavier standing behind him, fully “alive” without even a mark on him. 

“Jesus, Bree, are you okay?!” He exclaims as he pulls me into him and hugs me tightly. I’m still in shock and tears are streaming down my face as I wrap my arms around him. He keeps me in a comforting hold as I’m panting and shaking, not fully processing what just happened. My skin feels clammy with sweat and my breathing becomes rapid, my chest becomes heavy. There’s no use now; this is a full blown panic attack. Xavier sets me down back on the couch with him and just holds me, allowing me to breathe and calm down while sobbing into his shoulder. All the while, I’m staring at Ramirez’s bloody body and the axe lying next to him on the ground. 

“This is all my fault,” Xavier suddenly speaks, and there’s an obvious shakiness in his voice. “I shouldn’t have brought you in here, Bree. I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.” 

“Xavier, please. It’s not your fault,” I try to reassure him. “I’m sorry that our private time was interrupted.” 

He looks at me and his eyelids fall. “I almost got you killed! I don’t care about anything other than that!” he says, and I can already see his eyes getting a little wet. 

“I - I was just trying to lighten the mood a little,” I respond. 

“No, I know you were,” he says as he clutches my body close to his. “I’m just - I feel like I’m always getting everyone I care about into these fucked up situations. I invited my friends up here thirty years ago to work at this camp and we all died as a result. And one of the people who’s responsible for saving my life also died that night because of me.” 

“I know, you told me about Bertie,” I say to him, allowing him to place his head on my shoulder as he begins to sob. 

“I don’t mean Bertie,” he says quietly. “I mean...” 

His voice suddenly trails off and he doesn’t finish. I don’t talk. I just sit there hugging him tightly and let him cry. He eventually pulls away from me and lays down, resting his head in my lap as I gently run my fingers through his hair. 

We lay like that for some time before I hear footsteps outside the shack, and am caught completely off guard when the door opens and Ray walks inside. 

“Ah, shit! I’m so sorry that this keeps happening!” He says to me as I turn to look at him, a toothpick settled between his teeth. 

“Ray, what are you doing here?!” Xavier says loudly, lifting his head off my lap. I don’t say anything - I’m just thinking I’m glad we are both fully clothed and we weren’t interrupted from anything really private this time. 

“I came up for our shift!” Ray says, looking genuinely surprised. “I thought you were gonna be mad that I was late.” 

“No, I wasn’t expecting you!” Xavier says to him, standing up. “I told Courtney to tell you not to come when I saw him and Jonas leaving earlier!” 

Ray shrugs. “I haven’t even seen either of them, so nobody told me anything!” He says. He turns his head and then sees Ramirez lying in the corner. “Did I miss something?” He asks. “What’s Ramirez doing over there?” 

Xavier turns and looks at me. I’m still sitting on the couch; he pulls me so I’m standing and he puts his arm around me. 

“Yeah, uh... about that...” Xavier says. 

“We were kind of not paying attention and Ramirez woke up,” I speak up, trying to hide my embarrassment. “He, uh... he got Xavier and then tried to get me...” 

“Oh damn it!” Ray exclaims, placing his palms on his face. “Bree, listen, you gotta be careful around that dude! Why are you even up here? It’s so dangerous...”

“Yeah, I, uh... I invited Bree to come in with me for the shift,” Xavier says. “That’s why I told Courtney to tell you not to come. I just wanted to show her what we do with him. I didn’t think anything would happen... and now I feel like shit about it.” 

Ray doesn’t say anything; he puts his palm on his forehead and begins pacing back and forth around the shack, almost like he doesn’t know what to do with the new information he’s just heard. After a minute or so, he stops and instead walks over to Ramirez’s body and begins to drag him by the leg. Xavier joins and together they pull him over back to his spot in the middle of the shack, before they both come over to me. 

“Xavier, we should talk, and I mean privately,” Ray says to him. Xavier nods and turns to me. 

“Bree, I hate to do this, but I think you should go. For now,” he says, holding my hands. “I’ll come find you later. I promise that. I’ll make up for what almost happened to you today.” 

“You don’t have to, it’s fine,” I say to him as he kisses me. I’m still a bit shaken from what happened with Ramirez, so it’s probably best that I go. I walk towards the door and wave to both him and Ray - I can see tears beginning to form in Xavier’s eyes and Ray puts his hand on his friend’s shoulder as I leave them in the shack.

I try my best to contain my own tears and emotions as I take a walk towards the camp gates, deciding to call home and clear my head for a while. The thought of Xavier mentioning that he felt terrible about getting everyone he cared about killed rang in my head, occurring to me that he was probably subtly hinting that he also was beginning to care about me. At least, I certainly hope he was. I’ve only known him for a few days but I know I feel like I’m starting to care about him, and the reality of the situation is settling in. I’ve been here almost a week and it hadn’t occurred to me just yet about what’s going to happen whenever I decide to leave and head back to the real world. Eventually, my family is going to figure out that I’m not at the hospital anymore and come looking for me. 

I make my way down the road towards the gates when my thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a deep voice. 

“It’s great to see that my boy Xavier found himself a nice girl,” the voice says behind me. “I always did just know he was gay for pay, so I suppose you’re some of the proof there.” 

_What the fuck?_

I turn around and see a tall man standing behind me, with black hair, dressed in a silver suit with a white collared shirt underneath and two gold chains peaking out from his chest under the white.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask him as he slowly approaches me. “And what do you want?”

“Nothing, really,” the man says. “Just find it funny that Xavier’s always getting himself involved with people who aren’t good for him. You’d be fine, if you were dead, that is. But you’re not, so that’s on him.” 

I look up at the man. He smirks at me, and he looks so sleazy and sinister. I’m almost afraid to say anything else, but that doesn’t stop me from speaking again.

“Are you ever gonna tell me who you are?” I ask him. “Or are you just going to come to me with cryptic bullshit about Xavier?”

The man takes a step back and chuckles to himself. “That’s all I have to say, and am going to,” he says in a low voice. “If you tell Xavier - and I know you will... tell him ‘Daddy’ says hi and that thirty years is too long without coming to say hi to _me_. You? You can just call me Blake, if we ever see each other again. Though, I don’t think we will.” 

I feel a slight brush of air against the back of my neck, like a bizarre haunting, that I hadn’t felt amongst any of the ghosts while I’ve been up here at Redwood. I brush my hand on my neck and look down for a second. When I look up again, the man is gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the song “Everybody Wants To Rule The World” by Tears For Fears. Aside from being one of my favorite songs from the 1980’s, it felt appropriate considering we meet Ramirez in this chapter who pretty much wants to be this powerful serial killer.


	6. Should I Stay Or Should I Go?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bree and Xavier get closer than ever, and their respective pasts are revealed. Later, Bree starts considering some rash decisions about her predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Semi-graphic descriptions of suicidal thoughts at the end of this chapter. 
> 
> More smut ahead. Pasts are revealed. 
> 
> Everything that’s been going on in the world right now has really been stressing me out, so this chapter got started and then got kind of put on the backburner. Now that I have plenty of time on my hands, I decided to buckle down and get it done. 
> 
> Hope everyone is staying safe and hanging in there as best you can.

10:30pm.

I’m sitting on the dock overlooking the lake with my blanket from the cabin draped over me. This afternoon has been a blur. Between Ramirez, and Blake, I couldn’t handle it and decided to head into town without showering for a while after Blake disappeared by the gates. I spend most of the day out, bought a few things, and showered when I got back. Dinner around 7 and play another game of Scrabble with Bertie and Courtney in the mess hall. I purposely don’t try to find Xavier and I haven’t seen him since I got back. 

My thoughts are interrupted when I suddenly hear him sneak up behind me. 

“Hey,” he whispers as I turn to him. He takes a seat next to me and leans his feet over the edge of the dock. 

“Hi,” I reply quietly. The truth is, I don’t know what to say to him. I’m still shaken from what happened, although I really don’t blame him. I can’t. 

Neither of us speak for a while. He sits there looking at me and I do back at him. Eventually, he slowly reaches his hand out and I take it. The first sign of contact that I wasn’t sure would even come from him. 

He’s the first to speak as I feel his palm grip tightly around mine. 

“I haven’t seen you since this afternoon,” he says. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to see me, so I left you alone.”

I manage to smile softly at him. 

“I went into town to clear my head,” I tell him. “I was gone most of the day, but I’ve been back a few hours and was just up at the dining hall playing board games with Bertie and Courtney. You could have come, too.” 

Xavier shrugs. In an attempted peace offering, I throw the blanket off and motion for him to come sit under it with me. He smiles and scoots over, sliding his arm around me as he wraps the blanket around us both. 

“I was afraid you’d be so pissed off at me,” he says, leaning forward and kissing my lips. 

“No, I’m not,” I say. “I meant it when I said it wasn’t your fault. I’m still shook up from it though, which is why I needed to get away from camp for a while.”

Xavier doesn’t respond. He leans his head down and rests it on my shoulder. I think he understands. 

We just sit there on the dock for some time, looking out at the water. I keep my mouth closed and don’t know whether or not to bring up what (or who) I saw this afternoon. I decide to open my big mouth anyway. Deep breath. 

“Who’s Blake?”

Xavier jerks his head away from me and the look on his face is obvious confusion and shock. 

“What the fuck?” He asks, his mouth opening slightly. “How - how do you know that name?” 

I look down at the wood on the dock below me. Fuck. I shouldn’t have opened my stupid mouth. 

“I - I saw this guy today. When I went to the camp gates,” I finally manage to push the words out. “Tall. Slicked black hair. Silver suit, gold chains around his neck? He said his name was Blake... and that he knew you?”

Xavier suddenly jumps up from out under the blanket and looks legitimately frightened - for the first time I’ve ever seen him look terrified in the few days that I’ve known him. 

“Blake? You saw Blake?” He wipes his forehead and stares down at me. 

“Who is he?” 

Taking a deep breath, he sighs heavily and sits down on the dock again, crossing his legs. He looks at his feet and stays quiet for some time. Not knowing what I should do or say, I just sit there with him, reveling in the same quiet. I don’t know how long has passed when he finally speaks. 

“I knew Blake when I was alive,” he says in a low voice, stretching his legs out holding himself up by his arms. “He - basically saved my life. I came from a shitty home life. My mother was an alcoholic and was raising me on her own after my dad walked out on us. I left home when I was just out of high school. Came to LA to try to be an actor. I got really frustrated with not being able to find many gigs besides theater and I was living in my van at the time. I got really into drugs - hard drugs, not just weed, or even coke. When Blake found me, I was getting a fix in the park and hadn’t showered in days. I smelled like piss and shit. But he - he took me in, and helped me get clean. He got me the job at the aerobics studio. I owed him, big time. And he... he fucking...”

Xavier stops talking and sucks in a breath. Even in the dark, I can see tears have begun streaming down his face. 

“What did he do to you?” I ask. I almost don’t want to know the answer. I start thinking I should take back the question, but he interrupts my train of thought.

“That bastard told me repeatedly that I had potential. Star quality. He told me constantly what a good looking guy I was. I thought he was just being encouraging at first, you know? Trying to tell me my looks would help me get acting work. One day after I get back to the new apartment he set me up at from the job at the aerobics studio - Montana and I had just met, but hadn’t started officially dating yet - I get a call from him saying he has a huge opportunity for me in terms of acting and I’d be a fool not to take it. He asks me to meet up with him, so we go out to a bar that night. He handed me a card and told me he was in touch with a studio who needed a lead role in a small film, as a pizza delivery guy. Of course I had no clue what kind of movie meant the pizza guy was the lead, until I find out the context. I almost didn’t believe him at first when he told me. He - the film was an adult film. A men’s adult film... a gay porn video...”

My mouth suddenly drops open as I watch Xavier’s head fall into his hands. I let him continue. The next thing I know, he’s leaning himself into me and buries his head into the crook of my shoulder. 

“He promised me - promised me I would just have to do one video. That was it. And then he’d leave me alone.” His voice quivers as he wraps his arms around me tightly and continues to sob. “He did, for a while anyway. Then the day we all drove up here, I checked my answering machine messages when we stopped for gas. He left me a blackmailing message, said I couldn’t just take my dick and walk away. I hung up and tried to ignore him. He drove up here that night - I was hoping he wouldn’t be able to figure out where I was. I stupidly left the address for the camp for my paychecks from the aerobics studio though, like the asshole I am. Of course he found me. He grabbed me that night when I left my towel at the cabin, pulled me into his car and told me I had to do more videos or else, pretty much. I hate to admit that I did this, but I briefly told him about Trevor... you know why...” 

I sigh and nod to him, indicating that I understand what he’s saying to me. 

“So I sent him over to check out Trevor and then ran when he wasn’t looking,” he says again. “I don’t know. I wasn’t fucking thinking. He showed up out of nowhere and I was scared, Bree. I didn’t know what else to do. Then... when I came back to where I left him later, I was up in the cabin and I heard Ray screaming for help. When I got down there, I saw Blake’s body on the ground with a spike through his head. Trevor shines a flashlight and his ear is missing...”

I suck in a breath of my own now. 

“Jingles killed Blake!” I say to him. He pulls his head away from me and nods again, continuing to sob. 

“He did,” Xavier pants. “I felt like it was my fault. For a while, I felt like all of what happened, was my punishment. I still do sometimes. And now... now you know my big secret. My past. I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” 

He pulls away from me and lays down, placing his head in my lap like he did this afternoon. Clearly he wants comfort right now. He lays holding my hand in his, while I lay back against the wood planks underneath us. 

Neither of us speak for a while. Xavier eventually breaks the silence. His hand in mine feels warm and comforting.

“I can understand if this makes you uncomfortable. About me,” he says in a low voice. 

“You’re a ghost. You’re okay with me having a history of self harm and scars all over my body. I don’t scare that easily. I’m not going anywhere.” 

I talk while looking up at the stars. It’s a clear night. Xavier doesn’t respond - he kisses the back of my hand gently and I think that’s all I’m getting from him. 

Laying there looking up at the sky, while my fingers find themselves intertwining themselves through Xavier’s soft hair, I’m contemplating telling him my other secrets that I haven’t told him yet. He’s just told me his entire awful life story in one breath. It feels only fair that I tell him mine. 

I don’t get to say anything. Not just yet. He lifts his head off my lap and lays on his back, covering us both with the blanket as he holds my hand as we lie together on the dock. He doesn’t speak. We just lay like that for some time; the only sounds I hear are the crickets chirping in the distance and his slow breathing. I’m contemplating what to say to him. Much like a lot what I said to him last night - it just all blurts out.

“My family,” I whisper. “Did you hear what Ramirez said to me this afternoon?” 

Xavier’s eyes don’t leave the sky above us. “Vaguely,” he responds. “When I woke up, I heard him saying something about your family history, but all I could concentrate on was getting to my feet and grabbing the axe to save you. So, I missed a lot of it.” 

I sigh. “Do you want to know?”

“You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable.” 

“Xavier, you just told me some really dark shit about your past,” I speak up. “I’m gonna tell you, before I get to scared to.”

Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth and just speak. 

“My family are Satanists,” I say. “They’ve been members of this little off the beaten path ‘church’ in downtown Los Angeles since long before I was born. I’ve gone a few times, but mostly I skip it. My brother, Patrick, they’ve gotten him on board. Me? Was never really my thing. I don’t believe any of it. And it became even less interesting to me when they brought...”

I can barely finish. My eyes are welling up and my lips start to quiver. Xavier hoists himself up next to me and looks down into my eyes. 

“Fuck,” he says quietly. 

“That barely scratches the surface,” I finish. “When I was a freshman in college, I was failing one of my prerequisite classes. My mom brought this guy home to tutor me - said her and my dad knew him from the church and that he could help. He helped me pass the course, but he... wanted more. Remember I said that I had been sexually assaulted? Well...” 

Xavier’s mouth falls open and I’m completely sobbing now. I can’t finish. I think he understands - he reaches down and wraps his arms around me in a tight hug, and kisses me very gently. 

“I already had problems before that,” I say to him. “In high school. Body image issues. I was an outcast in school. People knew me by reputation as Patrick Connors’ younger sister, the ‘Satanic freak’ by default, even though I didn’t fucking follow it. I didn’t wear black and didn’t wear a pentagram to school like him every day. I tried so hard to fit in and show them that I wasn’t like him, like the rest of my family. I couldn’t make friends. I hooked up with a few guys, and they always ditched me the second they found out who my brother was. I started cutting. My parents never found out about the guy from our church and what he did to me. I’ve never gotten over it. Being at Red Meadows was because this was the first time in my life that I actually tried...” 

I can’t stop sobbing. Xavier shushes me and lays his head on my chest. 

“I think you’re the first person who’s ever really _seen_ me,” I admit quietly to him. “You’re not judging me on who my family is or my body. You accept me. I’ve never had anything like that before. Anyone.” 

“You deserve to be seen,” he says. “I’m still so pissed at myself that I almost got you killed today. The last few days that you’ve been here have made me feel more alive than I have in years. You’ve given me so much more excitement in this boring excuse of an existence we live. I couldn’t do that to you.” 

I can’t help but sigh again. 

“I can’t stay here forever,” I admit to him. “Eventually I’ll have to go back. But...” 

Xavier turns and looks at me again. 

“You don’t want to?” 

I shrug. 

“I don’t know,” I say. “I like it here. It’s peaceful. I love being with you. I like all the other ghosts. One part of me knows I can’t stay. But the other...?” 

He shoots me a look of utter seriousness. 

“I hope you’re not thinking of something drastic,” he says.

“No. I promise you that. I don’t want to die. At least, today I don’t. I’m so messed up. It comes and goes as a feeling. My thoughts are erratic and it might change tomorrow. I _have_ been thinking it may not be so bad. I can stay here with you...”

“No, Bree, stop that!” He snaps. “I told you not to talk like that. You have your whole life to live. I won’t let you do it!” 

He leans down and clutches onto me. 

“Relax, Xavier,” I speak, in a low voice as I hold him against me. “I won’t do anything.” 

He sighs again as he keeps his head buried into my shoulder. 

“All I ever wanted was to be a real actor,” he says. “Blake abused me. I said to him that night, that people like Tom Selleck or Michael J. Fox never did gay porn. He just kept going on about me being a star. I should be happy that I haven’t seen him, but I still feel like it’s my fault that he was murdered.” 

I stroke my hand on his back, trying to think of something else to say to comfort him. I say the first thing that comes to mind. 

“You know, Michael J. Fox doesn’t even really act anymore,” I end up saying. 

Xavier pulls his head away and blinks. 

**(Ugh. Did I say the wrong thing?)**

Sitting there staring back at him, I don’t know how to respond. He thankfully follows up with a question. 

“Damn, does he really not? What happened?”

“He was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease,” I inform him. “His condition got pretty bad for a while, I guess. He doesn’t do a whole lot these days acting wise and mostly does advocacy work for finding a cure.” 

Xavier sighs again. “Shit,” he says quietly. “That’s terrible. I’ve really missed so much all these years. I feel like you just keep delivering blow after blow. I’m still not over you breaking the news about George Michael and Prince.” 

For some reason, I end up laughing now. Xavier laughs too and lays down on the dock with me again. My thoughts are all over the place and jumbled the longer I lay there, so I pull him in for a kiss and try to distract myself for as long as possible. The distraction lasts a while and things become heated between us, to the point where he almost rips my pants off while still on the dock. Without thinking too much, I stand up, zip my pants up and lead him back to my cabin. 

* * *

Our clothes are off within minutes of reaching the cabin. This doesn’t feel like the other times. Previously where he had been slow and gentle, Xavier is an entirely different beast now. And frankly, so am I. He still keeps his eyes steady on mine as my bra hits the floor and he harshly yanks my panties down. His own underwear is off seconds later; the pupils of his eyes are blown wide as he gazes over my body. It’s the third time today we’ve been naked with each other, and somehow he seems hesitant. Showing him that I want this, I pull him in for a rough kiss and bring him down to the bed with me. 

He quickly changes his pace as his lips wrap themselves around one of my breasts and his arms around my waist, pushing me against him. Sucking my nipples until they become stiff, his fingers grip my ass below me and I take it all in. He can do whatever he wants to me - I’m no longer afraid. I want him. Some kind of switch has been flicked in me and there’s no turning back anymore. 

“Do what you wish,” I whisper to him, brushing my fingers through his hair as he continues licking my breasts. He pulls away and raises an eyebrow before making his next move, which is to lay me on my back and make his way slowly down my stomach before he buries his face between my thighs. He’s clearly making up for having been interrupted earlier with Ramirez in the shack - he goes down on me at a faster pace than previously, and once again drives me mad by the way he does it. I grind myself into his face as I feel his mouth and tongue going in rapid paces below me, bringing me to a much more intense orgasm than he had the night before. So intense, that it takes me a while to come down from the high and I almost think it might be too much if we continue. 

Xavier doesn’t say anything. He lays with me as my breathing slows, and I reach down to stroke him to keep him hard while I decide my next move. He’s laying there next to me and his own breathing becomes deeper as I grip him in my hand. His eyes are on me. I lean down and press my lips to his, and the heat of his mouth plus his hardness in my hand makes my decision for me. I pull myself off him briefly and get off the bed, where I walk to my bag and pull out the box of condoms I bought. 

“Are you sure?” Xavier looks up and asks me as he sees me taking one out and coming back to bed. 

I push him gently so he’s laying on his back and peel open the wrapper. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I say in a low voice. “I want this, Xavier. I want you. If you’ll have me.” 

He gulps and bites his lower lip as he looks up at me with his beautiful blue eyes. 

“You don’t know how badly I want you, Bree,” he says. “I can’t take it...”

“Then stop talking,” I say to him, as I toss my legs over him and roll the condom down all the way to the base. He holds onto my hips as I take a deep breath and settle myself down onto him. He doesn’t go all the way in at first, and I’m slightly worried. I pull myself up. 

_Breathe. It’s okay. You want this. You want him._

I try again and decide to tease him a bit first, gently rubbing myself on the tip of his cock. The feeling below my stomach sends a mild shock throughout my body and I can’t contain the sound that comes from my mouth. Xavier must like it too - his mouth is wide open and something that sounds like a a combination of a grunt and a moan leaves his lips. He holds one of my hands as I continue to rub my clit against him and his other grabs onto my hip. I cease the teasing and finally sit on him once more, trying to get used to the sensation of him inside as he stretches me. Xavier grabs both my hips tightly now as I slowly start bouncing on him - the feeling is strange at first. I try to find a rhythm I’m comfortable with and press my hands to his chest for support as I begin to speed up. I look down at him - his hands are squeezing my breasts and his eyes are wide open. His mouth opens again and his heavy breathing escapes. 

“Fuckkkkkk...” he says in a voice so low I can barely hear him. “Bree, you’re so beautiful. You feel so good...” 

He doesn’t finish and trails off as I keep going. I’m starting to feel something on my end and I’m caught off guard when his hand lowers itself down the valley of my breasts and his finger finds my clit between our bodies. It’s my turn to moan heavily now. 

He must sense I’m getting tired as my hips slow, because he flips us over and resumes the thrusting on his end, lifting both of my legs around his waist. He doesn’t speak. Neither do I. His eyes meet mine directly and I hear nothing else but the sound of him slapping against my skin and see nothing but his face above mine. Gripping onto his back and hold his body against mine. My eyes are closed tight as I feel his lips brush across mine and several other parts of my face. They migrate over to suck gently on the spot directly underneath my earlobe on my neck - Xavier’s figured out within the course of a few days that this is one of my sensitive spots. Combined with the thrusting and his finger pressing down on my clit as he pushes in and out of me, I can’t take the feeling anymore. I let go. My mouth drops and loud moans echo from me. That must have triggered something in him - his head dips into the crook of my shoulder and he thrusts harder than he had been doing until now. 

My hips buck into him as I feel myself losing all control of everything. _Holy... fucking... shit..._

Xavier clutches onto my torso with one hand and holds my leg with the other as I feel myself coming down, and I keep thrusting upwards to help him. I feel his own thrusts becoming slower and less harsh now. He’s close. Trying to help him along, I grip his ass, firm in my hands, helping him continue, and reach my head up to gently suck on a spot on his own neck just underneath his cross earring that I hadn’t tried before. 

That does it. 

Xavier’s grunting becomes loud and rings in my ears. I feel him twitching inside me and I know what’s finally happening. I hear my name come from his lips as he finishes inside. I’m briefly worried for a second, then relax when I remember he has a condom on. 

When he’s done, he just lays on top of me. I’m panting and sweating. So is he. For a dead person, his body feels incredibly warm and inviting against mine. He’s sticky with sweat like I am. We lay there like that until he eventually rolls off me, yanking the condom off and tossing it into the makeshift garbage I’ve created on the side of my bed with a paper grocery bag. Not saying anything, he looks at me. I notice his body is suddenly completely dry (those ghost powers I can’t get used to), and he pulls me close into him. 

“I hope you’re not trying to kick me out again,” he whispers. “Because I hadn’t planned on going back to my cabin.” 

“Thank you,” I say to him, and I can hear him breathing softly as he curls up next to me. 

  
A few hours later, I’m awake and manage to wriggle myself out from under him. He’s awake too and asks where I’m going - I tell him I have to do my business. Letting me go, he allows me to step outside of the back door of the cabin and I go pee in the in section of the woods that I’ve designated as my bathroom spot. My head is spinning for some reason. My anxiety has gotten the best of me. I can’t stop thinking about what’s going to happen when I leave. It’s been on my mind all day, but it’s even worse now that I’m not distracted. 

Not even thinking straight, my mind reverts to all the weapons inside the shack. Maybe one day when nobody is looking, I can sneak up in there and use one of them. Trying to think of which will hurt the least. I don’t know why I’m like this. Why am I even considering this? Fuck. What’s wrong with me? Do I just not want to go back to my life? Do I want to stay here and somehow be with Xavier forever? I don’t know anymore. I’m starting to understand him more. He’s fucked up like me. He gets me in a way that most people haven’t. I can’t give that up. Even the other ghosts at this camp have treated me way better than most people have in my life. I don’t know if I want to go back to my old life. I like it here. Maybe I’ll just suck it up and stay. Do it quickly when nobody is watching. 

My head is racing so quickly that I don’t even notice that I’ve fallen asleep on the grass, and my eyes open to the daylight around me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the song by The Clash. Another that felt appropriate.


	7. Love Is A Battlefield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bree wakes up after a hard night and struggles with some of her feelings, including her feelings for Xavier and Ramirez haunting her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, it's been a few months and I didn’t mean for this to take so long to update! It’s been a long year and a long summer. I hope everyone is doing well and continuing to stay safe. Next chapter won’t take a million years.

  
_Shit. Did I oversleep?_

My body is covered in dirt and there’s a rock underneath my ear. Smacking at a fresh handful of mosquito bites on my arm, I jump a little when I realize there’s tiny ants crawling around inside my shirt. 

**(Fucking great. I fell asleep in my pajamas outside in the woods and ended up an ant and mosquito breakfast buffet. Real smart, Briana. Of course, I didn’t think to put bug spray on before I left the cabin, but I blame nighttime grogginess for that.**

**Come on, don’t laugh at me too much. Everyone makes mistakes.)**

“ _Satan... Satan... Satan. He’ll show you the way...”_

_A man’s deep voice echos in my ear._

_Ramirez?  
  
_

_If that fucker has come to haunt me..._

I pry my eyes open. My shoulder and upper back hurt, but I can’t really complain. My own fault for wandering around in the middle of the night. Xavier crosses my mind - I assume he’s still back at my cabin, and wondering where I am. He might come looking for me. 

I manage to sit up and take a stick, doodling in the dirt. An old past time. Stick figures, circles and eventually a small pentagram. Despite not having believed in my family’s religion, the pentagram made its way into my boredom/ADHD drawings and holds no real meaning for me. It’s nothing more than a doodle that I would draw on my school notebooks. Unlike my brother, who got in trouble with the administration more than once for actually tagging school property with pentagrams and various occult wordings. It’s meaningless to me. Ramirez doesn’t know what he’s talking about. 

Forcing myself to stand up, I start to make my way back to my cabin, annoyed that I’m barefoot and trying not to squeal too hard as the soles of my feet glide over the twigs and rocks. I walk for a bit in what I think is the right way, but after a while it occurs to me that I may have walked too far away in the dark and I don’t know where I am now. 

**(Fuck me. I’m lost.)**

_Fuck me.  
  
_

Somehow, it completely skipped my mind that Xavier and I finally had sex last night. I really enjoyed it. Seems like he did too. Looking back to just a few days ago, it makes me wonder what I was so worried about. I have no doubt in my mind anymore about how he feels about me. His intentions and feelings seem genuine. I really do like him. He’s kind to me, and oddly sweet. Montana was right in that he’s sort of dumb, but that’s fairly endearing to me. Thinking about it now, it’s starting to dawn on me that I haven’t spoken to my family in a few hours. It’s still occurring to me that I can’t stay at Camp Redwood forever. At some point, a decision will have to be made. 

My head is spinning. I haven’t taken my medications yet today. That always leads to disaster the longer it’s not in my system. 

Walking along some more, I come to a clearing and realize where I’ve unintentionally come to, from a back way:

 _The Spooky Shack._

I approach the old building slowly and as I come closer to the window, I hear laughing and small noises coming from inside. I’m startled when I see two figures briefly hit the window, seeing a flash back of leopard print and a flurry of bright yellow hair pushed against the inside glass. Looking closer, it’s clearly Montana, and it’s equally clear that she’s being pushed up against the window by Trevor, his thick mustache noticeable as I spy his face latched onto her neck with his eyes closed tight. I try hard not to laugh and go to turn my head away as soon as I see Montana lift up her shirt from behind, but their silhouettes quickly disappear from the window. 

While it’s nice to know Montana and Trevor have a long, fulfilling relationship and a more than healthy sex life, I definitely don’t need to hear them banging right now. I pop a squat on a rock a few feet away from the shack and get lost in my thoughts again. Really not sure what I’m still doing out here, and why I don’t go find Xavier. 

Deciding I don’t want to stay near the shack, I stand up and continue to wander. Heading through the woods, I turn a different way and end up in a graveled area marked by a faded wooden sign that reads _STAFF PARKING LOT_. I haven’t been over here yet. There’s a couple of crashed cars here, including a small tan one and a green and yellow striped van with the side door wide open. Coming up to the van, I notice the license plate reads _VANTA C_. 

It’s rather warm out, so I step up inside the van for some shade. It’s not much cooler in here. There’s a small table and a red mat on the floor, and I lie down with my body half inside and my feet hanging out the door. Seeing some rocks and sticks on the ground out of the corner of my eye, I’m trying to fight back the urges I’m feeling. I don’t want to do it. Do I? Normally if I had my phone in my hand, I can fight this urge. But I haven’t charged in a while and who knows how much battery I have left. Plus, my phone is back at the cabin. I really want to get out, sharpen a stick and put it to my skin...

“Where the hell have you been, Bree?! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” 

Xavier’s voice startles me, as I turn my head and see him lying at my side on the floor of the old van. 

“Holy shit,” I say, wiping my forehead with my hands. “Don’t sneak up and just appear out of nowhere like that!” 

“Sorry. Ghost perks,” he says, a small smirk appearing on his lips as he curls up next to me. His hand reaches over and brushes my hair out of my face. 

“I was worried about you,” he admits in a quiet voice. “You never came back last night. I started asking around and nobody else had seen you. I even went up to the Shack - Trevor and Montana are on duty today. Montana told me she saw you outside for a second and then they spotted you walking up here...” 

**(Of course they fucking saw me. I can’t sneak around like I used to.)**

“What time is it?” I ask. My eyes still aren’t completely open. I’ve felt groggy for however long it’s been that I’ve been out here. 

“Not sure. Probably about 1 o’clock,” Xavier responds. His eyelids lower a bit, and he speaks again. “I was scared you were pissed at me for some reason. I thought we had a nice time last night. Was everything okay?” 

“Yeah, hey, don’t worry about that,” I say, leaning forward and kissing him gently to reassure him. “Everything was good. That was good. You know it’s not about that. I love being with you.” 

“I’m glad, because I feel the same,” he says. “Then how come you bailed? You didn’t even tell me where you were going.” 

“I told you I was going to pee, and I did. But, I don’t know. My brain isn’t in a good place. I’m all scatterbrained and my thoughts are everywhere. I just... slept in the woods. Then I got lost trying to find the cabin. I wound up at the Shack, and then ended up here. I haven’t been to this side of Redwood before.” 

“You’re not missing much,” Xavier informs me as he stares at the ceiling of the van. “Just the staff parking lot. Also, you found my old van. Crashed it that first night that myself and most everyone here died when we were trying to escape. Jesus, I haven’t been in this thing in a while.”

I blink at him and ask what’s on my mind. 

“VANTA C?” 

He rolls his eyes and laughs. “Yeah. You know, like ‘fantasy’. Every rad van needs a name, after all.” 

It’s my turn to roll my eyes and laugh now. “God, you’re so fucking corny,” I say to him, giving him a light smack on the arm. 

“Hey, don’t make fun of me!” He perks up his voice a little and pats the floor. “This old girl was my home for a while. She took me everywhere.” 

“What happened that night? To the van?”

Xavier rolls over and turns on his side. 

“We had just found Blake’s body by the showers, after Jingles killed him. Of course we panicked, so we booked it over here. Van wouldn’t start at first. I had to smack the steering wheel a few times to get the engine going. This woman, Donna...” 

“Yes, I know,” I said. “Donna Chambers, right?” 

Xavier’s eyes light up for a second. “Shit, I keep forgetting you know her. Red Meadows?” 

“Yeah, she’s the director of the hospital,” I reply to him. “I forgot that she had been here, and was that night. I heard her tell the whole story to Bobby, through the door to her office.” 

“Anyway,” Xavier continues, and sighs. “Not much else to tell. Donna ran out in front of the van. We crashed, and then we were all killed later that night. Now the VANTA-C lies here forever in the parking lot at what’s left of Camp Redwood. May she rest in pieces.” He laughs to himself and then pushes hair out of my face again. 

“Seriously though. Are you okay?” He asks. “You seem kind of out of it.” 

My turn to sigh now. 

“My head is all fucked up today,” I admit to him. “I haven’t taken my medication. My brain is doing this cycles thing, it won’t stop racing. I keep hearing the voice of Ramirez whispering in my ears...”

His eyes widen and Xavier stares at me with a sincere look in his eyes. “Ramirez?” He questions. “What’s that about?” 

Gulping silently, I guess I might as well tell him. 

_We’ve been so open after all, and I suppose by now he’s my pseudo ghost-boyfriend? Is he though? What even are we? I’m definitely not in the mood to have the “what’s the status of our relationship?” conversation with a dead guy that I’ve been sleeping with for the last week._

“I’m not sure. He just keeps whispering in my ear. I - I think he wants me to go to him? To speak to him? Maybe I should...” 

“No!” Xavier cuts me off, holding my face in his hands. “Promise me you won’t go back up and go near him. I still haven’t forgiven myself for nearly getting you killed yesterday. Please, Bree, promise me you’ll stay away from him!” 

He looks at me and his eyes, his damn gorgeous blue eyes, have a close shine to them. He looks like he’s going to cry. 

“Okay, I promise you, Xavier,” I tell him. He breathes a sigh of relief and kisses me, before pulling his face away and jumping out of the van. 

“Come on, let’s just go back to camp,” he says, offering his hand as he pulls me out of the van. I realize that I’m still barefoot and in my pajama clothes.   
  


* * *

  
Xavier brings me back up to Redwood and drops me off at my cabin. The first thing I do is call home and tell my mother I had been sleeping most of the day. I had been a nervous wreck walking back to camp with Xavier, convinced by now she had called Red Meadows and that my cover would be blown once she realizes I’m not there. I take a shower and get dressed, feeling a little lightheaded before I remember that I haven’t eaten or taken any of my medications. I bring my pill bottles up to the mess hall, where Bertie helps me prepare a quick salad and I make some macaroni and cheese on the side. After eating and taking my meds, I spend most of the rest of the evening hanging out with her, Xavier and most of the other ghosts playing two games of Scrabble, one game of Charades and a game of poker for no stakes. Montana and Trevor come back from Ramirez duty and join us for the poker game, where Ray and Chet leave to go take their place for the night. It’s honestly very relaxing just hanging out with everyone, hearing about the 80’s from them and me telling everyone about modern life in 2019. 

Sometime around 7:30pm, I fake a headache and Xavier gets up with me to go back to my cabin (the sounds of giggling and snickering from the other ghosts echo in my ears as we leave the mess hall.) By now, everyone knows what’s going on between us, and I don’t care anymore. Xavier and I can barely keep our hands off each other as we reach my cabin door, and I’m not thinking about anything but him as I lock the door behind us and we begin removing our clothes.   
  
  


* * *

_“Satan, Satan, Satan...”_

The words are still ringing in my ear a couple of hours later. 

Trying hard to ignore them. I’m lying naked underneath the blanket on my bed, with Xavier next to me, rolled over on his side, and seems to actually be sleeping for once. The words keep echoing - even throwing a pillow over my head won’t stop them. 

_Something has to be done. This needs to end._

Making sure I’m quiet as I could possibly be, I crawl out of bed, throw some clothes on, and secretly grab Xavier’s flashlight off the nightstand near the bed. I do a quick check to make sure he is actually sleeping - he definitely seems to be. 

Not knowing how long this will last, I tip toe out the door, and head up towards the Spooky Shack. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from “Love Is A Battlefield,” by Pat Benetar. Seemed appropriate.


	8. When Doves Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one I’ve had sitting in my notes for some time, and I figure it’s a nice midway point before we continue the rest of the story. 
> 
> Like my Michael fic (“The Morning After”), this deviates a bit from the first person point of view and is written entirely in third person from Xavier’s, reflecting on his week or so with Bree at the camp, and the future of their relationship.

Xavier’s eyes opened to unfamiliar surroundings. Not the cabin that he shared with Chet, Ray and some of the other ghost men who inhabited the camp, but hers. Bree’s cabin, that he had been spending the last few nights in. He was surprised that he had slept, and that this was the first time in years that he had. Wanting to feel her warm, alive body next to his, he turned over hoping to slide his arms under her torso - only to find that for the second morning in a row, the bed was empty, and he was alone. 

Forcing himself to sit up, he peered around the cabin and found that her bag was opened and some of her clothes were strewn about. Her shoes were missing. Her white bra, that he had removed from her body the previous night and thrown onto the floor, was no longer in the same spot with the rest of her clothes that she took off. 

He sighed in exasperation and laid back down on the bed, letting his naked skin rest against the old sheet that covered the mattress on the wooden planks. He had a feeling of where she went, even after he had told her not to. Much like he was, he learned even in the course of a week that this woman, Briana Connors, whom he had been spending so much time with since she arrived at Camp Redwood, was very stubborn. He could tell her a million things and she would still do whatever she wanted. Her independent spirit was one of the things he liked so much about her. 

Xavier put his hands crossed behind his head and thought of Bree. Her wavy brown hair that went down to her chin. Her pretty green eyes. Her soft skin and the beauty spots that adorned parts of her torso. Even the numerous faded scars that were spread over her thighs and calves, that she admitted were from her self harm habits - he found them all beautiful. She was beautiful. She wasn’t like Montana or any of the other women he had dated while he was alive. She had a quiet, almost gentle aura about her, similar to Brooke Thompson, whom he never was attracted to in that way (and he also knew his friend Ray always loved Brooke as it were), but there was something about Bree that he found endearing. Perhaps it was because she was different than the women he was used to dating. He admired her strength to keep going and keep living, even when she revealed to him that her depression and her mental state made it hard for her. He laid back and wondered if her resilience was what attracted him to her so much - he was dead and wished he was still alive. She was alive and often wished she were dead - a feeling he could never truly understand, but he wanted to be there for her regardless. 

For the last week, whenever they were together, he felt more alive than he had in years. Every time they kissed. When she would touch him. When he touched her. Feeling her skin against his as they laid together on her bed in the old wooden cabin. Watching her beautiful body above him with the moon shining through the window, reflecting off her perfect tits the previous night, and the night before. She always felt so warm, and he was secretly worried that his own ghost body would feel cold and clammy. He was still feeling self conscious - that if he were alive, not only would he be about twenty years her senior, but wondered if she would still find him attractive, his burns visible.

He often thought about what would have happened had he made it out of Camp Redwood alive that night. Would he have tried to raise money for plastic surgery and skin grafts? Would he have become a reclusive hermit and given up his dream of acting? Being stuck at Redwood for eternity had its perks and it’s cons, of course. He was often envious of the love that Montana had found with Trevor. He knew Ray felt similarly, and still often mourned what he could have had with Brooke had he lived. He, Chet and Ray would spend time hanging out together reminiscing about their lives. Chet seemingly found his place at Redwood and enjoyed sleeping around with the other ghosts, no matter their gender. Xavier had slept with more ghosts than just Bertie and it was always nothing more than casual fun, but he secretly longed for something real. Something he didn’t have with any of the other ghosts that haunted the grounds, and something he hadn’t felt in a long time until Bree arrived. 

They hadn’t talked about it, but he thought of it every time they talked, fooled around, swam in the lake, held hands, or whenever he looked at her. What were they? Was she his girlfriend? He didn’t know how they could work, and he definitely knew she was hiding out. He knew she couldn’t stay at Redwood forever, even if she weren’t hiding. And he knew for damn sure that he couldn’t leave. He tried hard not to think about it, and had been considering talking to Ray, who went through a similar story with Brooke Thompson when she arrived back at Redwood in 1989. Ray had gotten Brooke to safety after she had been stabbed by Margaret, leaving her at the Redwood gates so she could call for help and not die on the property. 

Though Xavier knew that though he loved her and wanted her to live her life, it left his friend in a depressed state that lasted for a good year or so. He wanted to be with Bree, but much like Brooke, it wouldn’t be fair to her to die, never grow old, never be able to leave the campgrounds, never have the life that he dreamed of living once again. 

He rolled over on his side and in a flash, he was off the bed and fully clothed. He couldn’t be alone with his thoughts anymore. Xavier knew he either needed to go talk to Ray, or find Bree and talk to her about the state of their relationship. She hadn’t seemed stable the previous day, and he was worried about what she might do, considering she was confiding in him about her thoughts of self-harm and possibly going to find Ramirez. Something needed to be done, and Xavier wanted to help her in some day before she made a rash decision. He exited the cabin and following only his gut feeling, made his way towards the Spooky Shack. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song title from Prince “When Doves Cry.”


End file.
